


What's Wrong with Ferdinand von Aegir?

by josten10



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Mafia AU, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Partners in Crime, dimitri is there for like 2 seconds and dies sorry, divorcee edelgard, what's wrong with secretary kim au if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josten10/pseuds/josten10
Summary: In which Ferdinand is gang leader Hubert's personal assistant.When Ferdinand tells Hubert that he wants to quit his job, Hubert is shocked about how much it affects him, and even more shocked at how far he'll go to make Ferdinand stay.But is change the only motivator for Ferdinand's decision? Secrets can only be kept for so long - unrequited love, childhood trauma and...revenge.Is everything you remember really as it seems?
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	1. The End

Hubert’s scars were not as bad as you’d think, for somebody with the life he’d lived.

Cuts and bruises all seemed to fade; if you were lithe enough, you could avoid most irreparable damage – the worst wounds he’d received were mostly from the times he was still green, and under the management of somebody else; and they could hardly be seen unless under bright, fluorescent lights.  
The real scars could be seen in his environment.

His office had been redecorated; covered over sloppily with rich purple paint and plants shoved in every corner trying to distract from the gouges in the walls. Varnish could not cover a dent in wood from where a knife had pierced it.

Such was the life he led, he supposed – moving to a new office was possible; but it ran the risk of losing custom from long-time clients who were not so easy to contact. More than that, though, it would just be running away from reality.

A nice office wouldn’t hide the blood scent that had been caught in his nose indefinitely. It wouldn’t change the environment he grew up in; nor his path in the future.

There was little room for regret in Hubert’s mind – the average idiot walking down the street may have attributed certain terms as ‘ _morally incorrect_ ’ to anything that the law called a crime because those were simply the values that they were indoctrinated with growing up. Living the life of a 'criminal' was entirely different. 

Once you live around people who commit crimes - once you are those people, it just becomes another way of living.

Murder stained his mind differently than minor transgressions of forgery and theft – of course it did; while some people deserved to die, the thought of ending someone’s existence forever could keep you up at night. How could you justify yourself an executioner? There were few ways; most of which involved looking at people as animals, and morals as detached from nature. Hubert had played with such concepts once upon a time, but in the end, it didn't seem to make anything easier.

He questioned even the vague morality in his guilt, though, when he turned to his right to see a moth-eaten chair bathed in an orange waterfall and the hardworking form of his secretary.

“Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand didn’t look up from where he was hunched over his desk; scribbling attentively. “Hm?”

“What’s the schedule for today?”

-

_“Are you Hubert von Vestra?”_

_“Who’s asking?”_

_A lanky young gentleman in a frilly silken shirt and tight-fit trousers stood proudly at the front desk of his office as if he belonged there, despite looking far too gaudy for the average customer who was hoping not to be noticed. “Ferdinand von Aegir." That didn't sound like a fake name - not that people didn't choose believable names sometimes, but this boy seemed like he had told as many lies as discreet shirts he owned. "Do you know of my name?”_

_Hubert smiled snidely, thinking about ruining this haughty youth’s day. “My apologies; my memory usually serves me rather well, so I think I’d remember any name which had a particular...impact on me. For you, however, I cannot say that is the case.”_

_The young man_ did _look disheartened, much to Hubert's glee. He quickly perked up, though, the determined expression he had dropped falling back into place like a mask. “No matter. Starting today, I will be working under you.”_

 _“Hah!” Snorted Hubert. The kid certainly had guts. “Says who? Look at you, you’re as green as they come; I doubt you could kick a_ dog _, let alone participate in... more unsavoury practice. Who sent you here?”_

_His vision was stolen quickly with a face full of paper. “I come recommended by Edelgard von Hresvelg. I am excellent with words on my own, but, this time, I shall give her the honour of speaking for me.”_

_Hubert did a double take. Edelgard had recommended this man? He didn’t seem like the type she associated with - far too flashy; too loud._

_“Why couldn’t she have hired you herself?” Hubert snatched the document from Ferdinand’s grip. It was certainly in Edelgard’s script._

_“She thought I might be...better suited to your employment.”_

_“Hm. Palming you off on me, is she?” He skimmed through the letter. “You passed the first hurdle; you may assist me. Your first shift starts now. Your first task is to contact Edelgard and ask her to bring her sorry ass down to my office and explain why she sent a no-good brat like you to do my dirty work.”_

-

Nowadays, Hubert was quietly thankful for Edelgard’s decision - even if it had been just because she couldn’t stand spending time around Ferdinand.

He had grown to be the perfect secretary, really; always early, and understanding of Hubert’s mind better than anybody else. If Hubert needed something done, Ferdinand knew it and had it done before Hubert could form the thought.

“You have an appointment with the secretary of foreign affairs for Seiros Corp. passing by the Duscur embassy at nine-hundred hours, so I suggest we leave within the next fifteen minutes because you’re going to want to be early. It should take us until three P.M. to deal with the fallout, after which you have a booking at Pinto’s restaurant for dinner.”

“Enlightening. Shall we get going, then?”

“If you’ll allow me to finish the sentence you interrupted.”

“How many times, von Aegir, your _work_ is the priority and hasn’t the nature to interrupt your...hobbies.”

“And _how many times,_ von Vestra, knowing your schedule is part of _your_ job and shouldn’t be something I have to remind you of.”

Hubert knew his schedule; planning was a skill he was well acquainted with. He simply took pleasure in irritating Ferdinand.

“Besides, this is not my hobby; this is all the paperwork I have to get through because _you_ forgot about your taxes.”

Hubert raised his eyebrows and looked away. He never had been one for mathematics.

-

It was ten thirty-three A.M., and Ferdinand and Hubert were laying low in a Sedan with tinted windows, stalled on a side street.

Ferdinand tapped out a beat on the steering wheel; a nervous habit he'd picked up way back at the beginning of his career. It used to irritate Hubert, but he had gotten used to the incessant noisiness of Ferdinand's existence.

"...Stop tapping." Okay, maybe not. But he could last the noise longer than he used to be able to.

"Two o'clock; we have our man." Ferdinand's slender fingers moved to point outwards in a gesture that could have been beckoning, his other hand already moving to shift the car into gear.

Hubert watched the target car slip into the street they were parked on; something sleek and intended to look a lot more dangerous than it probably was.

"Don't move too quickly; they'll realise we're after them."

Ferdinand scoffed. "They probably already know. Let's not give them the advantage of a wide berth; we only have a few minutes before our time slot is over."

"You're right. You nearly getting us caught last time was a fabulous exercise of your ability to gauge the danger of a situation." Ferdinand drove the Sedan conspicuously close behind their target.

"Well, we didn't get caught, did we? This isn't your average house burglary; we don't have time to scope out to see if they're watching us." Ferdinand flicked at one of the sticks protruding from underneath the wheel. The car's front lights flashed. "Fuck, that's not my turn signal."

"Idiot. One day your brashness will get you killed, and I will not be there to save you." Hubert held onto the handle above the window, readying his gun with his left hand. The car in front of them started to move faster.

"You," Ferdinand said, swerving a little to keep up with the front car's erratic movements, "are a terrible partner."

"I'm not known for my charm." Hubert hurried to open his window.

"Shut up and watch the target, will you?"

Ferdinand flinched a little when Hubert's gunshots rang out; totalling the back wheel of the car in front entirely. The wheels on the thing were relatively low, and the car began to drag to a halt, its body nearly scraping the road at the bottom. Hubert shot at the back wheel on the other side for good measure.

"Gods, warn me before you do that, will you?"

"Let's not give them the advantage," Hubert taunted, stepping out of the still moving Sedan as he reloaded his pistol.

Ferdinand mocked him in a high-pitched voice as he stalled the car again, stepping out behind him with his own gun from a strap hidden under the breast of his suit jacket.

A burly-looking man stepped out of the driver's seat, reaching into his own suit.

Ferdinand pointed a short-barrelled shotgun in the driver’s direction; quicker to the draw. "I somehow think that you don’t want to do that. Remove the passenger from the car, if you please."

The burly man laughed. "No, actually, _you_ don't want to do that. This is a big scene for a theft, isn't it? Tell you what; if you leave now, we'll even be kind enough to give you a head start." 

Theft? Ferdinand held back a laugh. If he thought their money was the objective, then all the better.

Hubert didn't like to play, unfortunately. He crouched, and shot once more. Oil began to seep from the bottom of their already steaming car. "Now _you_ are the ones with the time limit. Passenger out; make haste." Hubert stood again, clapping his hands like an impatient young master.

The burly man did a double take, assessing the oil situation.

He opened the door, and after a tense discussion, an older, shorter man stepped out, hands above his head. "Are you crazy?” The shorter man asked, trying to reason under pressure. “You're making a scene in a public neighbourhood. They've probably already called the cops."

Hubert laughed dryly. "We are in an empty neighbourhood; you dullard. This area has been abandoned for years now."

The fool had the audacity to turn his head. They were not two hundred feet from each other - Hubert's shot did not miss.

Face contorted in pain and confusion; the man crumpled. You could tell he wasn't used to being shot. Hubert remembered it was probably normal to not be used to that - but that wasn’t his usual customer.

"Better run while you can, big guy!" Ferdinand turned to walk backwards, swaying his hips with great dramaticism. Hubert rolled his eyes, but turned to follow him anyway.

Tell-tale footsteps were heard for only a second before Ferdinand whirled round to shoot at the car's rear again a few times in succession. The explosion seemed to last only a moment, and somehow be quickly drowned out by the driver's screaming.

Hubert grimaced. "You didn't have to make a mess of it."

"Why do you care? I'll be the one cleaning up."

"Correction - you will be the one to _send_ the people who clean up."

Ferdinand stared at him for a moment, agape. "You really don't know about my job at all, do you?"

"What?" Hubert turned incredulously, but Ferdinand was absorbed in his work phone, texting with vigour.

"Drive back without me, all right?" Ferdinand tossed Hubert the keys to the Sedan. "I'll be at the office by two thirty to take you for your meal. In the meantime, make sure our client is notified that we did our job properly - oh, and while you're at it, look over the reports I sent you last week."

"Are you my fucking mother?" Hubert stretched his hands out, offended by Ferdinand’s micromanaging.

"That's my job," Ferdinand confirmed, already turned back towards the mess of the explosion. He waved the hand that had his phone in it as a goodbye.

-

"You're not wearing what you were this morning." Hubert observed neutrally.

Ferdinand had changed his flashy suit for a frilly button-up and fire truck red pants. He scrunched his nose. "That secretary bled on my Versace shoes."

Hubert raised his eyebrows at the implication of Ferdinand actually coming into contact with the body. Perhaps he really _didn't_ know anything about Ferdinand's job.

"Don't wear designer clothes to a shootout, then."

"Are you kidding me? Everything I own is designer."

Hubert tutted at the waste. "Why don't you buy some sensible clothes for once?"

Ferdinand looked genuinely confused, bracing his hand against the front door. "But why would I wear something unfashionable?"

"I never said it had to be...you know what, never mind. I am hungry and I would like to leave."

"Your majesty," Ferdinand called sarcastically, back bent deep in a bow, "your carriage awaits you."

"How in the Gods’ names did I end up with such a rude secretary?"

-

The restaurant was dimly lit, but Ferdinand's bright outfits and hair attracted attention wherever he went, people looking up from their meals to watch mile-long red legs waltz up to the counter. Ferdinand flicked some strands of his impressively long hair back behind his ear.

"Reservation for Duscur," he said breezily, and Hubert thought it was obvious how proud of his cleverness he was by referencing the embassy related to the man they had just murdered.

"Right this way," The server replied, leading them to a secluded booth with plush couches and a narrow table lit up by candlelight. 

"This is different," Hubert commented after they were seated, threading his fingers together as his elbows rested on the table.

"Romantic, isn't it? It's a special day!"

Hubert sensed that the day's relative value had little to do with the murders they had committed. "And for what reason would that be?"

Ferdinand smiled in a way that was a bit more like a grimace. "Let's wait until we receive our meals, shall we?"

“Hm.” Was all Hubert said for a moment. “Did you know about the area you led that driver to today, or was bringing him there blind luck?”

Ferdinand’s shoulders froze. “...I... uh, found it the other day by accident.” 

Hubert could tell that Ferdinand was lying but wasn’t sure why. His heart quickened at the thought that Ferdinand might be hiding something. “That area means something to me, you know. It’s where I had my first.”

“Your first?”

“Kill. My first kill.”

Ferdinand’s eyes closed and he sucked in a breath. “Is that so?”

“Is it really that unpleasant for you to hear? Would it please you if I told you I was a hero?”

His eyes snapped open at that. “I know what you are. I work with you.”

“I don’t just end lives, you know. I saved one, that day, too.” He wasn’t revealing personal information because he wanted Ferdinand to know, particularly - he was prodding at him for a reaction.

“Well, that _is_ a nice story, isn’t it?”

Hubert’s hand slid up the far end of the table, slipping ever closer to his secretary, but his firm grip remaining on the edge, keeping his distance. "Ferdinand, you know how I hate it when people beat around the bush."

"I...am aware of that."

"Then why are you talking like you have something to hide?"

"I am just nervous."

"Well, Ferdinand, that is indeed ominous. I should like you to be out with it already."

Ferdinand stared at the table for a while, playing with his napkin; his long fingers slipping between the material in a way that was a little distracting.

"I'm...quitting."

Hubert blinked. "I wasn't aware that you smoked."

"Not cigarettes - Gods, Hubert, you know what I mean."

"Then I would like you to clarify."

"...I mean that…I am ending my contract with your company."

Hubert's body was shaken to its core. Cold fell all over his insides but he was hot all over his outside.

He was used to disguising his surprise, so he instead grinned, wide and cat-like. "Fine," Was all he said.

-

Two A.M. was what his phone told him the time was.

Not an unreasonable figure - Hubert often found that sleep evaded him, but this time, the feeling was different. He was sweating all over. His mind wouldn't rest; all over shitty Ferdinand von Aegir - his _secretary_ , merely a co-worker. _Staff_. Ferdinand’s company was paid for, not enjoyed.

It was natural that Ferdinand held no allegiance or feelings towards Hubert or his company beyond his pay cheque and his survival. 

And yet.

When Ferdinand had first entered the business, he had been clueless as a child - terrible at anything he tried his hand to, and made up for it only through his huge work ethic and inability to accept failure.

He had worked for Hubert while his mother was still head of their group - five years ago, thereabouts.

He hadn't asked for Ferdinand's age, mostly because he didn't want to know. He was definitely around Hubert's age, though, which would have made him around eighteen at the time he applied. A child.

They had known each other through incredibly important years. Although it was just a job, really, he hadn’t imagined Ferdinand ever leaving his side.

Perhaps it was partially because people didn't often leave the mafia. Not cleanly, at least. But Hubert could see it now - Ferdinand would slip out as easily as he had entered, just another cog in the machine. He had always been different in that way.

Someone would replace him and be just as good as him.

Or better than him.

But Hubert didn't want better - he wanted Ferdinand.

Well, that was an unsettling realisation.

-

"Ferdinand," Hubert said, entering the office with a panic hardly ever seen in his gait.

"You're late," Ferdinand noted, not looking up from his paperwork.

Hubert smacked his hands against Ferdinand's desk to get his attention. "Ferdinand." He repeated.

Ferdinand looked up with a little surprise raising his brow. "Yes, Hubert."

"Don't quit."

Ferdinand dropped his pen. "I beg your pardon?"

“Don’t quit. I mean, what could you possibly hope to gain by leaving at this stage? Business is booming.”  
He tried to justify his feelings with reason - unable to tell Ferdinand that, somewhere along the line, his company had become indispensable. They weren’t on that level, Hubert had realised the night before.  
He’d never put that much stock into his relationships before - aside from Edelgard, people were just people; he decided who he could stand to be around and he couldn’t. Ferdinand stood between those lines; both infuriating and irresistible.

“There are some things that you can’t get from a job, Hubert.” Was Ferdinand’s quiet reply, but it filled the room with its intensity.

“Like what?” Hubert fired back passionately.

“ _Meaning,_ Hubert; a life! Love and marriage - a sense of individual self, an answer to the past. Plenty of things, in fact.” Ferdinand threw his hands up in the air to punctuate his point.

“Love and marriage?” He couldn’t imagine Ferdinand loving anybody but his own reflection. And - marriage? What a joke.

“It was just an example. What I want is normalcy.”

“Normalcy…” All Hubert could do was repeat the words, dumbfounded. “I can give you that, then, if you give me the chance.”

Ferdinand started to laugh. “What could you possibly do that is normal? I cannot even imagine you doing normal things.”

“Well, what counts as normal?”

The laugh continued, and Hubert couldn’t help but feel that it was at his expense. “I don’t know, anything! Grocery shopping. Making a bed.”

Hubert frowned. “Don’t you do those things already?”

Ferdinand sighed at that. “Yes, with a side of serial murder.”

Hubert sat on the desk and stared at the far wall. “Surely you can have both, Ferdinand.”

“I feel less and less that I can every day.”

Making eye contact, something solidified in him. “Then...I’ll prove it to you. You and I... we will do...normal things.”

Ferdinand pouted. “You can’t even say the words in a normal way.”

Hubert sighed, exasperated. “Will you join me or won’t you?”

“All right then. It will be interesting, at least.”

  
  
  



	2. Quality Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert goes to Edelgard for advice. Ferdinand gets an unexpected day out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: ASPHYXIATION/MURDER

An impossibly large black lump clambered into Edelgard’s office with all the grace of an elephant at the opera, hitting its head on the door frame with a magnificent curse and, as he entered proper, swaying to and fro like a flower in the wind.

Hubert had never been graceful, but this level of chaos was hardly commonplace during daylight hours during which he maintained his sobriety (most of the time.) 

“Edelgard, I need some advice.” Maybe Hubert really was drunk.

  
Edelgard felt her eyebrows raise. “My h-what? Hubert, are you feeling okay?”

Hubert plonked himself down in the seat across from Edelgard’s desk unceremoniously, something dangerous and dazed in his eyes, which were rimmed with even darker circles than was regular on his features. “Ferdinand is leaving me.”

Edelgard made a sound like a deflating balloon, and there was silence between them for a moment after that. “You two were fucking?” Was all that she could think to say.

“F-f…..fffffff...” Hubert said, his cheeks burst in flame and his knuckles white where his fingers gripped Edelgard’s desk as if he was about to tear chunks out of it. “Leaving my _employment,_ you absolute simpleton!”

Edelgard’s mouth widened in an ‘o’ of recognition. “Right, I’m with you. Why didn’t you just say so?”

“If I had the energy I’d reach over this desk and draw the breath from your lungs.”

“Now, now, Hubert, is that any way to treat your ex boss?”

“That’s a funny way to word ‘bane of my existence’.”

“Watch your tongue,” Edelgard snapped, having had enough of Hubert’s insolence, and indeed, his shoulders snapped at the same time; his upper body at full attention. “What is it that you have come to see me for? Do you need me to dispose of your runaways yourself?”

“I'm not here to kill him,” Hubert said glumly, his shoulders slumping as quickly as they had instinctively risen.

“Then why are you coming to see me? Who cares if Ferdinand leaves? That great heap of mandarin toxic waste is better off gone.”

“I might need him,” He admitted in a low voice.

“For what?” Edelgard still failed to see how she factored into whatever mess Hubert had yet to clean up, even if she had recommended the idiot join his group. But that was out of the goodness of her heart! Besides, she had never expected Hubert to actually take him on.

“I’m not sure yet. But my mind absolutely cannot imagine a scenario in which he is not right beside me.”

“All right, Hubert,” Edelgard sighed, stacking some papers on her desk to add an air of importance to her words, “what is it about Ferdinand that is so important to you that you cannot lose him?”

Hubert began to sink lower with the consistency of ice cream on a hot day. “He’s always there when I need him.”

“That’s his job, yes.”

“He knows the way I like my coffee.”  
  


“So do I, Hubert; that’s not rocket science.”

“...’s hair’s fancy.” Hubert mumbled into the table which his face was now pressed against.

“...Hubert von Vestra!”

“Ah! Lady Edelgard.” Hubert’s body flinched upwards again. Old habits die hard. 

Edelgard grinned menacingly. “You are in love with Ferdinand!”

“Don’t say things that make me unwell.”

She opted to ignore him, her chest puffing out with pride. “So you came to me for love advice, eh? I always knew you would fly the nest one day...”

“Ah yes, love advice, of course! How could I have ever feigned my true intentions?” Hubert gestured with great sarcasm, his arms bent forward in a pleading motion. “Of course I would go to the _legendary_ Edelgard von Hresvelg for all of the great tactics to woo my loved one, because of her _incredibly_ successful - ah, _wait_ , how long ago was it that you got divorced again?”

Ouch. Edelgard pouted. “If you just came here to hurt my feelings, then you can leave, you know.”

“Edelgard,” Hubert said, pained. “Enough of the playing around. This is important to me, I - I need him to stay.”

Edelgard sighed. Hubert had been her weakness since he had earned his right to leave her side as his assistant and stand beside her truly as her equal. As soon as she could do so without raising any eyebrows, she doted on him like her own - especially in light of the unfortunate fate of her blood-related siblings.  
Hubert hardly ever let her take care of him; so adapted to his lifelong mission of supporting her every need that when she had let go of him he’d hardly known what to do with himself. Far slower than it had taken him to become sharp with her, he was opening up, too.

“All right. Start from the beginning. Did he say why he was leaving?”

-

Something was off in the air this morning, Ferdinand had thought as he left his apartment.

He wanted to put it down to the fact that he'd made his plans to leave final just the night before - but he wasn't so sure; birds circled high in the grey sky, laughing at him as he journeyed to the red light district.

There was nothing unusual in that Ferdinand had to unlock the door to the office. A long time ago, Hubert was always the earliest of the two, but the competitive streak in Ferdinand's personality made him get up earlier and earlier until he could almost always beat Hubert to the punch. He reasoned that, as Hubert's secretary, he _should_ be there earlier, with everything prepared in advance for his boss’ ease of access.

The office looked like a bomb had hit it - Hubert insisted on leaving quickly the day before, and without much time to pack up, Ferdinand had left sorting through files, money and stock to his future self.

He grimaced.

They could afford to hire a cleaner. Ferdinand's job was demanding enough as is - but before he knew how to take care of all of the difficult tasks he did nowadays, his job had been limited to tidying the office.

Hubert hadn't let Ferdinand come to meet clients or to dispose of targets until about a year into his hiring, but he was miserable at organising himself (in fact, Ferdinand still wondered how Hubert had taken care of business prior to his assistance.) Once he started becoming more involved, he was too proud to ask for help with the menial tasks.

There was a sense of nostalgia, though, in stacking bills, sorting through false identity cards, and scrubbing away at coffee stains.

Once the office looked livable again, Ferdinand sorted through his own neat stack of business - most pressing were some letters that needed to be completed today. He tied his hair back behind his head and fitted a pair of disposable gloves onto his hands, snapping them against his wrists.

Kills like yesterday were not as easily taken care of as putting a bullet in somebody's head and burning the corpse. There were loose ends to tie, in order to remove traces of the hit men and the clients’ involvement.

This particular bastard had a penchant for handwritten communication, and Ferdinand had been practicing his script for weeks. This was his speciality - forgery.

Not that there was any specific instruction to clear all of that secretary's to-do list, but it helped to confuse their tracks if it looked like he'd gone missing, especially of his own accord.

Slowly and deliberately, Ferdinand scratched out letters in block capitals, sealing them in brand new envelopes.

At the last paragraph of his final letter, the slam of the office door nearly ruined the entire project.

"Ferdinand,"

"You're late," Ferdinand replied irritably, eyes flicking up from his work just enough to glance at the clock on his desk.

A second slam. Massive, scarred hands on Ferdinand's desk. "Ferdinand."

"Yes, Hubert." He supplied the attention his boss so desperately craved, made up entirely of tall, dark, and...unsettling.

"Don't quit."

The world stopped. Ferdinand's heart hammered with the force of a long locked-away loneliness - one that had been rattling the cages of his heart with desperate desire for attention. The same desire that had pushed him to stay; the same that meant he had to leave.

"I beg your pardon?"

-

Hubert had been ruining all of Ferdinand’s hard work lately.

Unable to send off his letters, he’d been scooped up in a rush; for Seiros knew what. All that Ferdinand could understand was that Hubert was driving him somewhere, to do with _regular activities._

When Hubert turned into the parking lot of a local grocery store, Ferdinand’s by habit assumed that they were being followed. Unbuckling his seat belt, he lowered his body; turning his head to the side. “Are they behind us?”

“What in the Gods’ names are you blathering about?”

Ferdinand felt like a vein was about to burst in his forehead. “Who is following us, Hubert?”

Hubert spluttered as he lined up with a free parking spot. “Nobody! Is it that hard to believe that I have entered this parking lot of my own volition, for no underhanded means?”

Ferdinand’s gaze slid to the corner of his eyes; where Hubert sat beside him, looking frustrated, and then back out to the lot. This was going to be a long day.

“Why are we here?” Ferdinand struggled to keep up with Hubert’s pace as he roamed aisles, as if he was attempting to get somewhere, instead of trying to shop around.

“We are being normal!” A couple of older ladies stared at Hubert and Ferdinand openly as they walked by.

“Really? Because you are wearing a cloak to the grocery store, and you look like you’re determined to rob the place! Are you even here to _buy_ anything?”

Hubert looked wounded. “I thought you liked the way I dress.”

“I do! The belt on the waistline is incredibly reminiscent of early Dior. That doesn’t make it regular outerwear.”

Hubert spun on his heel, coming to a stop right in front of Ferdinand. Hubert’s head towered over him in a way that had always made him shy. “Do you want to do this or not?”

“That depends! I don’t seem to recall you explaining to me what ‘this’ is!”

“Ah.”

“...You _forgot_ to tell me what we’re doing here?”

“I didn’t _forget_! I just...planned to do so later.”

“You are full of shit.”

Appearedly for the first time since entering, Hubert scanned the store above Ferdinand’s head. “You live off takeaways and restaurants most of the time. I thought that might be one reason why you don’t feel normal. It was my conclusion that...perhaps we could stay in for a night or two a week to hand-prepare a meal.”

Ferdinand’s eyes softened. Hubert had really thought about this...about him. Sweetness filled his gut like cracking open boiled candy to taste the syrup inside - surprising and unstoppable. He had always been one to indulge, but some part of him held back when around Hubert. A fear of change - of rejection, maybe.

Their relationship had changed hugely since it began - all those years ago, when things were simpler; Ferdinand had infiltrated Hubert’s office and they were enemies.

It’s not like Ferdinand really needed the money, although his pay was more than respectable, and he’d saved up enough now that he could live comfortably for some time without employment. In the beginning, he’d come for something far darker than quick cash, which had taken great planning and use of his connections to get closer.

Nowadays, Hubert had become far too precious to think of as an enemy. Perhaps they were not friends, but Hubert hadn’t any inkling of how important his safety was to Ferdinand.

He realised some time into his hiring that he couldn’t think of Hubert as an enemy anymore, and even further through that he had feelings for him. What a cruel fate - to love one’s enemy, but also to love Hubert von Vestra; a man so dedicated to his work that he shut his body away for hours at a time and his heart away forever.

His original objective had backfired, to say the least. After all, Ferdinand’s reason for infiltrating the mafia - for bulldozing his way into Hubert’s office, well, he could never hope to complete it.

All of the rage he had felt in his heart had subsided in their years together. Hubert risked his life on a regular basis, and it was Ferdinand’s job to protect him - somewhere along the line he’d gotten so used to saving Hubert’s life that-

-he didn’t have the ability anymore to end it.

“Are you really texting in the middle of our shopping trip?”

“No, I’m looking something up.”

“What could possibly be so important that it can’t wait until later?” Hubert’s irritation was flaring.

Ferdinand resisted the temptation to roll his eyes - he’d been told off for that one too many times. “Recipes. You don’t have a clue what you’re looking for, and it shows.”

“...I’ll allow it.”

-

Lunch somehow passed without much incident - they’d ended up finding some vegetable stir fry dish which tickled Hubert’s charcoal mouth but didn’t blow Ferdinand’s head off.  
Sourcing conversation was not so difficult as maybe it should have been. In all their years together, most talking had been about work; but Ferdinand was skilled at talking for long periods of time about not very much at all.

Hubert listened, maybe patiently, but perhaps more because it was easier to let Ferdinand talk than to deal with an awkward silence.

“I really must get those letters sent off.” Ferdinand commented as he finished his meal. It was true, but also a way of exiting this strange situation - he was paid to be here, but he wasn’t actually doing anything that could be described as work. The day had been underlined with some stagnant discomfort because of that.

“Most people would jump at the chance to slack off. And yet, here you are, worrying about work.” It was not a dig. Ferdinand might chance to think that Hubert was complimenting him.

“I am, yes. Only because somebody,” Ferdinand tapped the fat end of his chopstick against Hubert’s nose, “is incredibly lacking in that regard; so one of us has to be sensible.”

Hubert looked adorably indignant at that. As Ferdinand stood up to gather the letters, a presence larger than life closed their distance again.

“Come on a drive with me,” Hubert said from Ferdinand’s back.

“A drive? Where to?”

“Just a drive. To go out and...see the scenery..” That was cryptic. Evening had already begun to peek its head around the corner.

“You know, Hubert,” Ferdinand turned with his letters in hand, “this is sounding awfully romantic for your tastes.” He tried to ignore the humming in his heart. He needed to get out of this situation.

Hubert scoffed. “Is it that hard to believe that I might genuinely enjoy your company sometimes? I have kept you around for years, now, and that means something to me - though I suppose…”

“Suppose what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll drive you to the post office.” Hubert turned away; his cape fluttering at his ankles as he headed towards the door.

“Hubert, you will tell me what you are supposing or I will stay with my feet planted to the floor of this office.”

His face turned a little, but his features were hardly visible. “Look, Ferdinand, I know my company isn’t ideal, and that I’m not the most likeable character. Be that as it may, I am still human.”

A small rage lit a fire in the base of Ferdinand’s throat like the click of a lighter. “You claim to know me so well. Do you think I could stay in close proximity with someone for so long if I didn’t enjoy their company?” Hubert was looking at his feet. “Let’s go on that drive, shall we?” Ferdinand scooped up the car keys.

Midnight blue faded, to gold and then to black. The sky was beautiful, and the streets were lit up like a festival; skyscrapers became lanterns and airplanes fireworks. Ferdinand stared out the window, encapsulated. He didn’t usually have the time to just stare. Any time he was in a car, it was because they were following someone, or being followed by someone.

“The city really is beautiful at night, isn’t it?” Ferdinand stole his gaze away from the sky to look at Hubert, and found that Hubert had been looking at him, which he supposed wasn’t odd, considering he had just spoken, but they both still broke the stare out of awkwardness.

“I have always found the darkness calming. I drive at night often; it helps me clear my mind.”

Ferdinand looked back at Hubert, whose eyes were now on the road; golden light and purple shadow casting dappled patterns on his skin. “I’m sure you did,” Ferdinand laughed breathily, “not thinking about how easy it would be for somebody to follow you.”

“Now, now, Ferdinand, do you think I’m not a big enough boy to defend myself?”

“Hmm...Hubert von Vestra versus six assassins with machine guns.” Ferdinand mused.

Hubert scoffed. “Life is too short to be afraid of everything, Ferdinand. I might as well enjoy the night even if it kills me.”

Ferdinand found something in those words - golden and sparkling like treasure hidden away in some deep darkness of himself.. He had been hiding for so long. Maybe there was meaning in risking it all and enjoying it anyway.

“That’s quite profound of you.”

“Oh, I am known for my poetic narrative.” Hubert grinned in the darkness and turned the steering wheel sharply. “We’re here.”

“Where? I thought we were just driving.”

“I’m allowed to keep a few surprises to myself.” With that, he exited the car, and went to lean on the hood, his cape rippling where it was loose at his shoulders.

Ferdinand exited the car, and realised they were by a river. Faint noises of traffic and large gatherings of people could be heard far away, but for once, there was hardly anyone in sight but the two of them.  
The water made hushing noises as waves travelled. He could smell a slight dampness in the air, perhaps from the water against concrete. He shivered, realising how cold it was to be next to the water, his nose feeling damp from the cold.

Sitting close enough to Hubert to catch some of his body heat, Ferdinand pulled his jacket closer. He felt some weight and heat be added, freezing up as he realised Hubert’s arms were around him, and suddenly they were gone.  
“Sorry. I know it’s cold out - I should have made sure we were dressed more warmly.” Hubert’s cape was wrapped horizontally over his shoulders like a shawl. It smelled like him - something both rich and kind of minty at the same time. Ferdinand took it in like his last breaths.

Hubert was usually covered in something all-encircling or baggy, but without his cape on, Ferdinand was reminded of just how large he really was. Broad shoulders fully fitted his black shirt, the forearms of which he was now rolling down in the cold to obscure muscle mass. Ferdinand’s mouth went dry as his eyes travelled to Hubert’s waist.

“It’s all right - I’m not that cold, and you don’t have anything else to wear. I can’t have you catching a cold.”

“Have you ever seen me unwell? Keep the cloak; you feel the cold more than I do.”

Ferdinand found himself shuffling ever closer to Hubert, and wrapping his arm around his shoulder to share the impressive length of the cape.  
“Hm. You always have been stubborn.”

“You need stubborn,” Ferdinand responded lightly, “because you don’t take care of yourself enough.”

Hubert made no move to close distance between himself and Ferdinand; nor did he scoot away. His eyes remained fixed on some point very far in the distance. “Perhaps that’s why I can’t imagine myself doing all of this without you.”

Ferdinand looked at his lap, his heart stuttering at the thought that Hubert might actually need him. But that was partially why he had to leave. “I’m sure you’ll attract another busybody to take care of you.”

Neither of them really said anything after that - they just enjoyed the noise of the streets and their own heads, the warmth of human touch and the coldness of the night air. Ferdinand kept his arm around Hubert until they thought to move from their spot.

Hubert drove Ferdinand back to his apartment. He was surprised that Hubert even remembered where it was, having been there only a couple of times since they’d known each other.

“Would you like to come in for a drink?” Ferdinand found his mouth saying the words before his brain had a chance to stop them.

“The idea isn’t abhorrent to me.” Hubert responded even more surprisingly. He followed Ferdinand up the rickety metal steps, and inside, to warmth.

“Ah,” Ferdinand commented, breathless, as he remembered the state his apartment was in. “I’m really sorry about this - I’ve been meaning to clean it up for some time now, but you know how much time work takes up.”

“Please,” Hubert slipped his shoes off and shuffled around Ferdinand, walking ahead through to the kitchen. “I know how clean you are. If your apartment is this much of a mess, attempt to imagine what my residence must look like.”

Ferdinand’s mouth soured. “I’d really rather not think about that.”

He never used to keep coffee in his house - it was too earthy, stank, and gave him the jitters - but somewhere along the line it had infiltrated his kitchen, along with a relatively high-end coffee machine. It wasn’t often used - only when Ferdinand felt particularly lonely.

“The quality of this coffee is excellent. Where do you purchase it from?”

“Oh, there’s a little market not too far from here. They let you try all of their special blends before you purchase. I’ll have to take you there someday.”

“That sounds nice.” Hubert agreed, holding his mug close as he analysed Ferdinand’s features.

There was an awkward silence for a while.

"You really should take some time to clear this apartment up. Would you like to take the day off tomorrow?"

Ferdinand nearly dropped his teacup. "Goodness me, no! There's far too much to take care of. I'll get this sorted eventually…I'll just...don't worry about it."

Hubert looked like he had been expecting that answer. "If you won't take the day off, you'll never get this sorted. How about we do some cleaning together this evening?"

“Have you ever cleaned a thing in your life?” Was the first remark that came out of Ferdinand’s mouth.

Hubert put his mug down. “Need I remind you that I used to be in a position lower than you are now?”

Ferdinand pursed his lips. There was a pregnant silence before he started. “Hubert...about that. Prior to your _promotion_ , were there ever any times you...followed orders you didn’t entirely agree with?”

“What is this concerning, Ferdinand? I should hope that you know that you have apt freedom to say no by now.”

“This isn’t about me. This is about you.”

Hubert’s eyes narrowed, but he answered anyway. “I suppose there were, yes. Officially, I had autonomy - however, the pressure of my family belonging to the Hresvelgs was no small matter, and certain things were...expected of me.”

-

_“Put your hands around his neck, Hubert.”_

_Hubert was horrified. The man sat hardly alive; hands cuffed, suit scuffed and torn to obsolution. He was practically begging for someone to end his life._

_Hubert had seen people’s lives end and be ended no small number of times. Actually laying your hands on somebody was different._ _  
_ _Perhaps not in the sense of self defence - if someone attacked him, he could slay them with a knife, he thought. But asphyxiation was slow. Especially for a man who hadn’t the will to fight back, it seemed impossible to summon the strength to kill._

 _“Move. Now.” Hubert’s body remained frozen. There were people surrounding him in the street, watching his every move - this was a trial, and he was failing miserably._ _  
_ _From somewhere, he compelled feeling in his toes, and began to stumble over to the body. “Do it. Kill him, von Vestra.” That name again. A reminder of his place._

 _He pressed his right hand to the man’s throat. His throat wobbled a swallow under Hubert’s hand. Disgusting. Fighting the urge to run, Hubert pressed both of his hands to the base of the throat, digging his thumbs in to crush the man’s windpipe._ _  
_ _The most disgusting noise he would ever hear came from that throat._

 _There was hardly a struggle; even if the man wasn’t severely malnourished, his arms were bound. It still took what felt like forever._ _  
_ _Hubert begged the man to give up and die already. His hands were beginning to shake._

_Finally, finally, the body went limp. Hubert dropped the neck like he’d been electrocuted._

_“Well done. You’ll need to bulk up and train up - that was far too slow.”_

_“Hold on a minute - somebody’s over there!” Another voice said from the crowd. Hubert followed the direction of their hand to see the vague shadow of a child, who immediately began to run. Hubert knew he would not get far._

_“After him!”_

-

“All right. Thank you for answering me.” Ferdinand sighed, looking distant.

“In return for my honesty, when we finish our drinks, I will be helping you organise your apartment.”

Ferdinand nearly fell out of his chair. “What?! No, I do not consent!”

“The home is sanctuary for the soul, Ferdinand. Perhaps some of the restlessness in your heart is reflective of your living situation.”

“...You make a good point. Perhaps I will enlist your help - but if the hour strikes ten and we are still not finished, you will immediately return home.”

“I accept your conditions.”

-

“Ferdinand, is this a record?” Hubert held the thing up with a finger and a thumb, eyeing it incredulously. It was dusty, and bent at the edges.

From across his bedroom, Ferdinand sat cross-legged on the floor between some boxes. “Oh, yes,” he tucked some hair behind his ear, “I used to collect them. I was a massive Nina Simone fan as a teenager.”

“Do you have a player?”

Ferdinand looked back, amused. “You want to listen to it? I do not think that this falls under your regular tastes.”

“I’m open to new things.” Hubert held it out towards Ferdinand as if he was close enough to grab it.

Gracefully, Ferdinand rose from the floor without using his hands to brace himself, effortlessly collecting the record from Hubert’s hand and gliding to the opposite end of the room to shuffle through another pile of his belongings. A little bit of fiddling, and music began to play at a low volume. Ferdinand hummed to the tune until he turned to remember Hubert was watching him.  
Hubert considered for a moment. “I like this,” He decided.

“Yes, yes.” Ferdinand replied like he wasn’t really listening. “Now continue placing objects into boxes, and try not to get distracted.”

\- 

“Ah! It’s ten fifteen already!”

Hubert had noticed, but was enjoying himself enough to keep silent. “My, my. You created your own rule and forgot to watch the time.”

“Enough! Get out of my house!” Ferdinand rose to his feet again, those long legs strode back past Hubert quickly, and he followed them all the way to the bedroom door. Ferdinand gestured exaggeratedly out of the threshold.

Hubert rolled his eyes, and got to his feet, nearly hitting his head on the way out. “You need taller door frames.”

“I need a shorter boss.” Ferdinand replied, ushering him quickly out of the door with hands on his shoulder blades.

After Hubert donned his cloak, there was weighted silence between them. “This could be our new normal, you know.” He finally said.

Ferdinand sighed, crossing his arms and looking down. “Hubert, you are... an important person to me. Even if I did leave, that wouldn’t mean that we had to lose contact entirely.”

Hubert felt despair settle back in. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Listen...I understand that the changes will be difficult to adjust to. They will be for me, as well. And that’s not to say I do not appreciate you doing all of this for me, because I really, really do. I just...you know you’re only doing it because you’re scared of losing your secretary, right?”

“What?”

“I mean, stop and think for a moment. Why in the Gods’ names would you do all of this? You’ve never once in all these years decided to hang out with me for my good company - it’s always been work. You are forcing yourself to do all of this because you’re worried you won’t find another person like me. Maybe you will, and maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll find someone even better than me, and be grateful that I left.”

“Ferdinand, I will never be grateful for that. And, flames, I am _not_ forcing myself to do anything. Understand that, ever since my name was unattached to anybody else’s, I have only been doing exactly what I want to do.”

“What is it that you want, Hubert?” Ferdinand’s eyes reached his own.

“I…” Hubert was unable to answer.

“Think about it, okay? I want you to figure out what it is you want, as much as I want that for myself. This is best for both of us.”

Hubert felt cold in his stomach. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ferdinand.” Without another word said between them, Hubert left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooooo!  
> This chapter was meant to come out earlier; but a couple days after the first chapter came out I found out I was moving out of my house lmao  
> Anyhow! A couple of revelations in this chapter, but I definitely have more surprises for you all. I hope you're enjoying the story so far!


	3. Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding something, Ferdinand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW ASPHYXIATION, SCARS, BLOOD LOSS/MEDICAL SETTING

_"Take him alive for now!"_

_Ferdinand had never run so fast - tiny footsteps taking him around street corners, behind houses and over fences. There was something familiar about it - a similar adrenaline rush to playing hide and seek, coupled with the same fear of the monster under the bed._   
_Except, if he looked back, he could see his followers clear as day._

Don't look! _He implored himself; fearful of slowing down. If he looked back and they were right behind him, why, he had no idea what kind of fear would seize him. He had to keep going._  
 _This had all been a terrible mistake._

_Ferdinand was a fit young man, but he was running out of stamina; breath coming heavy as his legs began to slow against his will. He cursed his personal limits._

_Finding a place to hide was the priority. Just there - an abandoned house with its door open just a crack - large enough for Ferdinand to enter without attracting any notice. He slipped past the front gate and into the door; sighing with relief instinctively and stifling the sound as soon as it exited his mouth._

Quiet your breathing; pull it in until you're only taking in slivers of air. Walk on your tiptoes so your steps make no sound. Quickly! Find somewhere to hide.

_The refrigerator was not safe - Ferdinand was fearful of entering lest he get stuck in there, or worse, that some food was moulding inside. The cupboard beside it was small - just small enough that he could fit in it if he folded his limbs up. It felt like safety._

_"I think I saw him head in here."_

_"Check everywhere. If we lose the kid, von Vestra'll terminate us without thinking twice."_

_Ferdinand stifled his breath yet more; practically holding it as loud footsteps patrolled the kitchen. He squeezed his eyes shut._

I'll get out alive. I can't get caught. They can't find me.

_"Got him!"_

_Impossibly strong hands wrestled Ferdinand out of that tiny cupboard; his protests meant nothing against the hulk of a man who gripped him painfully by his shirt collar in one hand and held his arm twisted back in the other._

_"Knock him out. It'll be easier to take him back that way."_

Lights out.

-

“Hubert, this is Bernadetta,” Ferdinand introduced.  
The young lady was shaking like a leaf; she appeared to be using Ferdinand’s arm as shelter from the inevitable probing gaze of their boss.  
Although Bernadetta had _technically_ worked under Hubert for two years now, and he had _definitely_ been present to hire her, Ferdinand thought it quite likely that Hubert had no idea who she was.

He had heard stories of Hubert’s previous occupation as Edelgard’s personal shadow; it had been his job to know absolutely everybody and everything that came within fifty feet of her operations. He wondered how efficient Hubert really had been - if he had just pretended to know a lot more than he really did, or if he was too tired to care now that he didn’t have anyone to protect.

In his hands, Hubert held an old knife, the hilt of which was decorated art nouveau style with a rich orange floral pattern. It was one of a great many knives Hubert apparently possessed - much akin to Ferdinand’s wardrobe, he was sure he hadn’t seen Hubert with the same knife twice. Hubert, though, polished it like it was a much used piece of equipment.

Bernadetta seemed to shrink further into the crevice of Ferdinand’s armpit as Hubert lifted his heavy gaze from his blade to his guests.

“What is this in aid of?” Hubert asked, not yet acknowledging Bernadetta’s existence.

Ferdinand grimaced. “Would it kill you to check your schedule for once? She’s here to be interviewed. By _you_.”

“For what? I have no need of new staff.”

“You have need of a new secretary, Hubert.”

“Ah.” Was all Hubert said. His eyes flickered back down to the blade.

“Is this a bad time? I-I can come back! Tomorrow, next week... _never_ ,” Bernadetta trailed off, getting quieter until her last word was practically a whisper. Ferdinand had specifically asked her not to talk like that around Hubert - he _hated_ mumbling.

He could already see Hubert’s shoulder twitch in frustration. “Listen, Bernie,” Ferdinand turned his head - trying to see down his back was making his head swim, “wait outside for a moment. Do not run away, or I will find you and fire you myself.”  
Bernadetta shuffled backwards, her skin clammy with guilt. Like lightning, she bolted out the door.

“Would it kill you to show a little civility?” Ferdinand placed a hand on his hip with irritation.

Hubert smiled a toothy grin that did not reach his eyes. “Surely any hopeful in becoming my secretary should be able to stand me when my behaviour is... _uncivil_.”

“Just because you treat me like a sparring partner, doesn’t mean that it’s not unprofessional. I just take more of your nonsense than I should. You need to learn how to be more polite.”

“I don’t want to. Find me another secretary like you.” Hubert waved his arm dismissively.

Ferdinand had seen Hubert behave like a child before, but this had to be the pinnacle of his petulantuity. He was agape, unsure of what he could even say to such a short and unreasonable request. Finally, his brain caught speed enough to formulate a reply. “You listen here, von Vestra. I will leave two weeks from today whether you have a secretary in your employ or not. It would do you well to stay cooperative, as, if you do not employ somebody new, you will be left flat on your intolerable backside.”

Hubert’s shoulder resumed its twitching, and a thought crossed Ferdinand’s mind that he really had done it now. Bracing himself from the inevitable flare up, he straightened his back and held his ground.

The flare up never came.

Hubert instead started _laughing_. And not in a sinister way; the way he usually laughed when he was threatening somebody. Well, Hubert laughing was still a sinister event. But this time, it appeared genuine.

Ferdinand was horrified - had he broken some seal on Hubert’s facade?  
“I’m sorry,” he began to fuss over Hubert’s shaking figure, “that was too much, I know - are you all right? Do you need water?”

Hubert ignored his questions. “Trust you to make me laugh when I do not feel like laughing. This is the last situation in which I want to smile, but you always have had a way with words.”

“Thank you…?” Ferdinand couldn’t be sure if Hubert was complimenting him or insulting him.

Hubert turned serious again, but his eyes were softer this time. “If I take that girl on, will you train her to be like you?”

“For as long as my employment remains, yes.”

“Then tell her she’s got the job.”

-

_He awoke with a pounding in his skull that was almost too painful to bear._   
_He wanted to clutch his head, but his wrists wouldn't move from their position uncomfortably tied around his back. Ferdinand assessed his surroundings._

_Unable to be sure if he was still in one of those abandoned houses or not, he tried to get to his feet, only realising that he was bound by something around his ankles as well as his wrists - was that a cable tie?_

_The room was dirty, but not dingy. A bare bulb lit it with nasty bright white light that made Ferdinand squint when he looked up at it directly. The floor was covered in dark stains._   
_Too close to Ferdinand for comfort, there was a family of rats nesting; shifting, convulsing with revolting autonomy. Ferdinand couldn't take his eyes off the movement in case one of the nasty things came over to him. He shuffled on his backside in the other direction, hoping to gain some distance._

_The only thing that broke his stare was the unmistakable creak of a door. Ferdinand's head snapped around to face the shape - too small to be the man from earlier, and somehow...greasier._

_It was a child._

_"Did your mother ever teach you not to stare?"_   
_Ferdinand's first thought was that he hardly remembered his mother in the time before she passed. He was unwilling to share this information with the strange child, though, so he kept quiet; his eyes trained on the figure._   
_"You'll die if you stay sitting there, you know."_   
_Shock ran through Ferdinand's system like a bolt of lightning. He tried to get to his feet; his back leaning against the wall; struggling against the cable tie around his wrists. The greasy child approached, his dark hair long but curtained in the middle; revealing a sickly pale face and beady bright eyes._   
_"Good. You still have some fight left in you then. What's your name?"_

_Ferdinand's breathing got heavier. The child was taller than him, and as his arms stretched out towards Ferdinand, he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him. A long period of nothing ensued, and Ferdinand was almost tempted to open his eyes._

_"Put your hands around his neck, Hubert."_

_Clammy hands reached their way around Ferdinand's neck, and they weren't tight, but he already felt like he couldn't breathe._

_"Do it. Kill him, von Vestra."_

-

Ferdinand's days went a little differently than usual - bringing Bernadetta in to train in the early hours, while his evenings and weekends were monopolised by Hubert.  
He had thought that one unusual day was a one-off attempt at bribery, but it had been repeated until it was a pattern; Ferdinand began to wait for Hubert when he'd usually just head home.

Fingers dashed across his phone's keyboard as his back leant against the doorframe; the cold air from the gaps in the door finding him through the thick material of his coat and making him shiver. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up.

“Get something to eat, and then head home. I’ll pick you up at midnight.”

“Midnight-Hubert, what could we _possibly_ be doing that starts at midnight?”

Hubert looked amused. “Something Cinderella couldn’t; clearly.”

Ferdinand couldn’t help but smile. He picked up his handbag, pulling the long strap over his shoulder. “As secretive as ever. Don’t be late, then - I’m beautiful already, but I still need my sleep.”

“I wouldn’t dream of compromising your beauty rest. Now; out of my office with you.” Hubert waved a dismissive hand in Ferdinand’s direction.

-

‘ _Hello_ ’ was the sole text that indicated that Hubert had rolled up outside Ferdinand’s apartment. Sure enough, that sleek black car was visible from outside his window when he tugged the curtains aside.

Ferdinand decided he’d make Hubert wait a little, just for the fun of it; applying shea butter lip balm with delicacy really not needed for something that didn’t stain any kind of colour. He messed about with his hair a little; wetting the waves and topping it with a pitiful amount of mousse so that it didn’t make his hair start to gel.

_Clock’s ticking, Cinderella_

_perfection takes time. unfortunately i do not have a fairy godmother xx_

Ferdinand laughed a little at his own joke. As soon as he opened his apartment door, the car’s engine sprang to life - a noise indicative of Hubert’s patience wearing thin.

“Next time you have to take a shit before we leave, make sure you do it early.”

Ferdinand grimaced. “Must you always be so crude? As far as you may be concerned, Ferdinand von Aegir has never _taken a shit._ ”

“We all shit, Ferdinand. Eating, shitting, sleeping - these are facts of life.”

“Please don’t try to make that sound profound.”

Hubert laughed aloud as he turned the steering wheel. “I thought you liked the way I talk.”

-

They were headed into the centre of the city, Ferdinand realised quickly; watching darkness be interrupted by bright neon lights as they whizzed down nearly empty streets. They couldn't be that far from their destination, then. Was Hubert going to take Ferdinand clubbing?  
He privately snickered to himself at the thought of Hubert's massive black frame occupying a bar, or worse; a dancefloor. Ferdinand was not exactly a regular goer, not just due to his job's demands, but also because of how loud and sticky the places were. Getting drunk around a mass mob of strangers was not high on his list of fun activities.

It was even curiouser when Hubert pulled up in some tiny side street, opening the passenger door like a valet for Ferdinand to exit. "Am I finally allowed to know where you're taking me?" He asked as he stepped out; taking the chance to slip his arm in Hubert's.

Hubert tutted. "Were you never taught that patience is a virtue?"

"From _my_ father? Not likely."

-

"Are we at the Garreg Mach Museum? Hubert! I adore this venue! What are we seeing?"

Hubert laughed darkly as he led Ferdinand up tall stone steps; still arm-in-arm. Through the long windows, chandelier lights could be seen; casting the inside with an orange glow. "So many questions," Hubert replied unhelpfully.

Some ladies waited to greet them at the entrance from behind a long table; covered in pristine white tablecloth and a line of glasses full of different coloured liquids.

"White wine, red wine, or elderflower juice?" The lady in the middle asked them. Hubert looked down at Ferdinand expectantly.

"I'll take a white," He said, finally unlatching himself from the safety of Hubert's arm.

"And I shall have a red."

Hubert led Ferdinand through one of the tall, open doors. The decor in the atrium had been marble and gold with massive columns that stretched impossibly high - this room felt like a completely different building.

Tiny glass lights fell from the ceiling on rope; hanging like rain suspended mid-air. Still, the lighting was dim; the room was cast rose gold with glittery carpet that rose and fell like valleys to house its displays. The walls were mirrored everywhere Ferdinand looked.

Where the floor peaked, incredible gowns stood tall on their mannequins, circling Ferdinand in spires of colour that repeated on endlessly in the reflection of the mirrors.

"This is McQueen!" Ferdinand whisper-gasped, smiling at Hubert with wonder. "B-but the tickets were sold out! I checked and I checked! How in Seiros' name did you-"

"There was a high demand for the exhibition to continue, so they added timeslots. The only ones I could get for us were this late, though." Hubert almost looked apologetic at that.

"That makes it all the more magical!" Ferdinand's grin couldn't possibly get any wider. "How did you know I wanted to go?" He pondered aloud as he wandered the collection.

Hubert scoffed. "How do I know that a dog would like a bone?"

They perused many rooms, each starkly different from the last. "What is your father like?" Hubert asked nonchalantly. Ferdinand’s arm had wormed its way back inside Hubert’s, and he was enjoying the warmth.

"Hm?" Ferdinand whirled around, lost in his good mood, and nearly spilled what was left in his glass.

"You mentioned him earlier. It didn't seem...positive."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "That's because it wasn't. The man is a buffoon; he chases only money and power, and has never seen anything else."

Hubert seemed to sense that Ferdinand didn't want to say anything else on the matter. "I see. Sorry for bringing it up, then."

-

The wind was a cold reminder of reality setting in as they left the building, but Ferdinand's eyes still sparkled with inspiration. "That was incredible! Didn't they put it together so wonderfully?"

"It was quite well-thought-out, yes. Watch your step."

-

Hubert pulled up outside Ferdinand's house and the magic was already fading. He desperately wanted to cling to his inspiration; to make a dress or some trousers or _something_.

"Thank you for tonight."

"It was my pleasure. I have to admit; it's not my usual brand of hobby, but I enjoyed it in spite of myself."

Ferdinand smiled at that, and a mischievous desire crept up in him that he was unable to sweep away. He leant in at the driver's side, and kissed Hubert on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"  
Hubert's expression was unreadable in the darkness of the car, so Ferdinand hopped out quickly, before he could feel embarrassed.

When he peered through his window, the car was still stalled. A moment later, though, it sped off, leaving an echo of noise in its wake.

Ferdinand clutched at his heart, sliding back against the window. The night had just been so...romantic. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before - his heart was hammering, and all he could think of was spending even more time with Hubert at his side.

 _This is ridiculous!_ He thought to himself, trying to snap himself out of this cotton candy mood. He was supposed to be quitting, for Seiros' sake!

And Hubert had said...nothing more about that. They were simply enjoying one-another's company, with no expectations.

Their days continued that way; museum dates quickly becoming a staple between the two. Ferdinand was sure he'd learned more about Hubert in a matter of days than he'd learned in years of working under him. And still, there were no more questions of reconsideration.

For all these years, Ferdinand had been under the impression that he had little more meaning to Hubert than that of a tool. Hubert was not exactly a sociable creature - getting conversation out of him was difficult unless it was about work. Not that Ferdinand really minded. He could talk forever about nothing at all, and Hubert was content to listen - within reason.

He would make new, meaningful relationships with coworkers in whatever job he tried next. But his heart still ached.

-

For Hubert, conducting missions without Ferdinand was rare.

Humorously, it had been Hubert’s mode for his entire life prior - within a few short years, he had apparently been rendered absolutely incapable of working alone.  
It was too quiet without incessant chatter, or the click of heels against asphalt. The quiet allowed Hubert’s mind to wander.

Despite the way Hubert might have come across, he was not an unhappy man. He had never thought to be anywhere other than where he was, or do anything else other than what he was doing. That was why it had been so difficult to live his life post-Edelgard.  
She hadn’t left him entirely defenceless, but her way of encouraging Hubert’s independence was to buy him his own office, give him some grunts, and all but cease contact for three months.  
Those three months had been the hardest in his life.

‘Purpose’ was not a concept that he had ever put much original thought into. It had been handed to him, really, and that was that. Hubert was still not sure that he had figured it out. He was doing rather the same job; in fact, he was far more physically present than other gang leaders in the area, having never fit comfortably into a leadership role.  
He would never admit it aloud, but having Ferdinand sent to him was a miracle.  
A man who clearly knew naught of the underworld, he would never question Hubert’s methods, and took plenty of time to train, keeping Hubert’s mind occupied. It had never occurred to him that one day Ferdinand would leave.

Maybe it would be a good thing.  
Deep down, Hubert knew that he needed to practice independence. It’s just that...well, he didn’t know how to. He wasn’t even sure what independence really _meant_. On his own, Hubert would continue on one course; tunnel-visioned, every good change he had made he could attribute to either Edelgard or Ferdinand. Flames; nearly every bad change could be attributed to his mother.  
Was he not a being of desire?

_“What is it that you want, Hubert?”_

Ferdinand’s words had echoed in his brain with no intent to stop the torture.

Perhaps there was jealousy. Ferdinand knew what he wanted; he always seemed to be going somewhere - Hubert knew Ferdinand would surpass him someday, because his limits were simply...higher. Letting Ferdinand go would be a good thing for both of them. Hubert would learn how to be alone, and Ferdinand would go on to do things far more suited to his ever-rising standards. As far as desire went, Hubert was sure that he wanted Ferdinand to do great things. There was just a painfully sharp, selfish desire there too - that Ferdinand could still do all that while staying by Hubert’s side.

“Excuse me,”

“Gah!” Hubert was unsure of the last time he had been truly startled. People usually made some sort of noise when they moved; even most assassins could be heard if you were paying attention. And yet, this dark-haired woman seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Hubert’s hand slipped to his hip where his gun was. “Who sent you?”

The question went ignored. “Please,” She said, although there was no urgency in her tone, “I need help, or I am going to die here.” Hubert realised that her hand was wet with blood; clutching against her chest.  
He was still frozen. What if this was a trap? If so, the woman was not a particularly convincing actress. The severity of her wound did all the talking for her, though.

Hubert assessed his options. He could leave the woman; she’d probably die before she could tell anyone he was here. He had a client to meet, after all. The Blaiddyd family were not known for their patience. The woman would also be caught up in all kinds of trouble after taking help from Hubert. It would be best to leave her.

He gave her a withering look.

“My car isn’t far from here. What’s your name?”

“Eisner. Byleth.”

-

Hubert did not have a medical degree.  
He did, however, have a first aid kit.  
Byleth had refused to go to a hospital, for “personal reasons”. That was fine by Hubert; he didn’t really want to take her anyway.  
It was a stab wound. Even worse, the fucker had taken the knife out and run off with it.

“What happened for you to get a wound like this?”

“I...can’t say.”

“Listen, Eisner, you’d better start talking, because I have your life in my hands right now, and my patience is wearing thin.” Hubert waved the dressing and tape he was holding in front of her face to punctuate his point.

Byleth made the first real expression Hubert had seen other than a blank stare - she wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow, chewing on the inside of her cheek as if she were trying very hard to think about something. “It’s not that. I just...don’t remember.”

“And just when I thought it was impossible for your story to get any less believable.” Hubert sighed. “Well, no matter. You’re unlucky enough to have found me, so, I’ll be receiving answers from you soon enough.” Hubert pressed at the wound tenderly, and heard Byleth’s sharp intake of breath. “I’m going to have to cut you out of that shirt. I’ll give you something to wear after I’ve dressed the wound.”

Byleth was expressionless again. “All right.”

Hubert felt an odd need to explain himself to this stranger. “If it helps, I’m gay.”

“I really don’t care.”

“Fair enough!” Hubert replied cheerfully, and began to cut upwards.

Hubert had done his best to clean around the wound, but it was difficult while it was weeping so much, so she would have to make do with a pressure dressing for now. She looked clammy and dizzy; having lost no small amount of blood. “You need sugar….Do you like sweets?” He asked pathetically, snapping off a bloodied latex glove and reaching towards the front of the car.

“Sure,” Was all she said.

In her lap, he dumped a few packets of caramels. Hubert didn’t really eat sweets, but these had a special significance to him. “Keep your strength up, and I’m going to take you to someone with a medical license.”

“I thought we said no hospitals.”

“We did,” Hubert agreed, feeling some rude need to be as short with her as she was with him. Surprisingly, she remained silent, clearly having found something in that response.

-

“You again?” Edelgard looked up from her desk irritably.

“It’s nice to see you too. You’re never out lately - I can see business is booming.”

She ignored his comment. “Do you need love advice again?”

Hubert smiled curtly. “I’m actually here to call in a favour.”

Edelgard’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t owe you any favours.”

“Well that’s nice to know. I’m not here for you.”

Horror movie-like, a thin hand made a smacking noise as it gripped the empty desk from below. Linhardt’s head appeared slowly from beneath it, that shock of green hair sticking up in all directions. “Do you always have to be so loud?”

“Just who I wanted to see. Linhardt, there’s a body in the car for you.”

“I regret to inform you that I’m not in the business of autopsy. Go somewhere else, please.”

“She’s still alive, for now. Though, she could die in the time it’s taking for you to get off your ass.”

Linhardt visibly cringed, and started to get up. “Please excuse me, Edelgard.”

Edelgard sighed and waved him away. “It’s not like you were doing anything useful anyway.”

-

“Oh, _dear_. Couldn’t you have taken her to somebody else? She’s bleeding a lot.”

“ _Somebody_ _else_ doesn’t owe me for saving their life and job over sleep-induced incompetence.”

Linhardt’s expression went from pained to bored in a moment. “Fair enough. You’ll have to bring her into the office, though; I can’t treat her from inside a car.”

“She isn’t walking that well.”

“Carry her, then. And try not to jostle her; you’ll aggravate the wound.”

Hubert scoffed, but after meeting Byleth’s eyes, he wound his hands around her shoulders and under her thighs. He would have protested at the thought of doing manual labour for _Linhardt_ , but his tiny arms would never have held her weight.

-

The back room of Edelgard’s building had been converted into a sterile doctor’s office with a bed covered in white paper. Hubert lay Byleth down there gingerly, and she immediately stained the paper where she touched it. Hubert could tell she was getting weaker.

“She’s lost a lot of blood...she’s going to need a transfusion.”

“Do I need to find you some blood?” The question came out quicker than the logic. Where in Seiros’ name would he find _blood_? He couldn’t imagine himself breaking into a hospital.

“There should be no need, as long as her blood type doesn’t cause us any problems. I need you to clean the wound for me and apply pressure while I take a sample.” Linhardt passed Hubert a packet of gloves and some wet wipes, with a bunch of other plastic-encased medical supplies that crinkled loudly as he tried not to drop them. He’d seen his own wounds being dressed before. He could do this.

“This will be more traumatic for me than it will be for you.” Linhardt addressed Byleth, tying something tight to her forearm and sterilising her inner elbow with a wipe. “Luckily for you, I refuse to do this twice, so it’ll be perfect the first time. I hope you don’t mind needles.”

“Just...do it.”

“Oh wow; you’re still awake! Strong woman. I thought I might be talking to a corpse, but you never know. You’ll feel a sting shortly.”

The wound Hubert was tending to was not spraying anymore; in fact, it was hardly even leaking. That had to be a good thing. He pressed a piece of gauze to the wound, sitting open between her hip and her breast, taping it lightly, because it would probably need stitching soon.

Linhardt came up with a little bottle full of blood. Turning away, he walked over to a large machine with a little tray at the bottom and an overhead hang that looked almost like an oven fan. He popped the bottle into the tray and pressed a few buttons, and it started to make noise like it was working.

“All right. I’m going to give her some saline intravenously, and then I’ll stitch her up. She’ll have to stay here overnight, of course. I’d appreciate it if you went away now; your huge shadow is incredibly distracting.”

-

It was not unknown that Ferdinand was picky about his outfits.

Fashion was about accentuating interesting features of the body; using patterns or a peek of skin to draw attention to the parts of himself he loved the most.  
There were, however, limitations to this. Namely, features he _didn’t_ want to draw attention to. It was unfortunate that he loved crop tops, because they rarely came with long sleeves, so he usually wore an undershirt. Today he was feeling confident; oddly so.

Bernadetta was already in the office when Ferdinand arrived, looking over some documents in the chair they had placed recently so she could sit with Ferdinand at his desk. He could only imagine she was so confident today because she knew Hubert would be away. “Good morning!” He announced his presence, and to her credit, she only jumped a little bit. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh-I was, um, taking a look at some of your past work.”

“You’re interested in forging?” Ferdinand rested his blazer on the back of his chair. “It takes a lot of work. I’m not sure I have enough time to teach you,” He said apologetically.

“O-oh, well, I mean, I’ve done it before! Just not...like this.”

Ferdinand raised his eyebrows. “Like what?”

“I’ve never written in somebody’s handwriting - I’m sure I could do it with some practice, but before I worked here, I, um, used to make IDs. Passports, driving licences; that sort of stuff; anything on a computer.” She laughed nervously.

“Bernie, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me that before? That’s quite the skill; if you can make them quick enough, we won’t have to outsource anymore. You might even be able to take business in a new direction.” He gushed, thinking of Hubert becoming a successful name in forgery. Quickly, he realised he might be overloading his trainee. “You can think about it; okay? If it’s something you’d be interested in, then let me know. We can do some work after I show you around the filing system.”

“All right. Thank you, Ferdinand.”

“Not a problem. Okay, where should I start?” He pointed to a few locked cabinets. “This is where we keep our above-board stuff. Taxes, invoices, receipts - that sort of thing. Although their primary use is to cover up the real money making, they’re still just as important as everything else we do. I have a key, and Hubert has a key. When I leave, I will give you my key. Do not ever lose it. Not because he’ll be mad, but because he loses his keys all the time, and you don’t want to be in a position where neither of you can get into the cabinets.” Ferdinand produced a set of keys from his pocket, and moved to unlock the topmost drawer.

Bernadetta’s inhale was short, and Ferdinand chose to ignore it.  
“This is the tax drawer. I’ve been in charge of it ever since Hubert kept ‘forgetting’, and it’s not your job, but you might as well learn them anyway.”

“...Those scars…” Bernadetta said, her eyes trained on his wrists where his bracelets had slipped down to reveal the flesh there; a matching swollen, silky ring on each side. The silence in the room was aching. “...Did you get them working here?”

“No.” Ferdinand replied, closing the drawer. It was louder than he intended it to be.

“Where did you…?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Ferdinand sighed. “It’s okay, Bernadetta.”

-

Hubert could go home. His work for today was ruined. But, well, there was nothing to go back to, really. He found himself driving to the office almost instinctively. At least he could clean the bloodied insides of his car round the back of the office without attracting any attention.

Ferdinand was at his desk, wearing some gaudy, bright orange blazer with black trousers. Was there a festival today? “Goodness, did the meeting go that badly? I heard the Blaiddyds were a violent bunch...but this…”

“Hm? Oh, no, this isn’t mine.” Hubert replied, gesturing to the blood all over his clothes. Of course it was the day he decided to wear white.

“Clearly.” Ferdinand looked amused as he got up from his desk to grab Hubert a fresh shirt. “Who did you fight with?”

“Linhardt, mostly.”

“You’re joking.”

“I picked up a stray on my way to meet Dimitri. She was half-dead, so I called in a favour, and now she’s recovering at Edelgard’s.” Hubert explained, stripping himself of his soiled shirt. “You should have seen the state of her; Ferdinand. Linhardt said she needed a blood transfusion.”

“It’s not like you to play the good samaritan.” Ferdinand began to dab at Hubert’s chin with a damp washcloth.

Hubert grinned. “I was feeling charitable today.” He let Ferdinand clean him up in silence, and only began to talk again when his shirt was being buttoned up. “It was...odd. I have a distinct sense of deja vu. I gave her some caramels because of how much blood she’d lost. It reminded me of being a child again.”

Ferdinand’s hands froze. After a long silence, he spoke. “You don’t like sweets.” Was all he said.

That was odd.

“No, but they hold sentimental value. I shared them with this child one time - Gods, it must have been fifteen years ago now.” Hubert was not sharing - he was probing. He watched Ferdinand as he continued to speak. “The child, they had been taken by my mother; probably hadn’t eaten in days-”

“All right! Storytime is over. I have work to do.” Ferdinand’s hands left Hubert’s chest incredibly fast, and he realised the shirt was fully-buttoned.

Hubert squinted. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. “You’re acting suspicious, Ferdinand. It’s almost like you...know something.”

“W-what could I possibly know? I just want to get my work done. I have a time limit, you know.”

Hubert’s stomach dropped for the millionth time. “Ah. I suppose I shall let you get back to it, then.” And with that, he left.

-

The car was harder to clean out than Hubert was expecting. The seats were leather, but the blood was sticky and filled jaycloths and his water bucket with nasty dark stains. He was there for a while, and preoccupied his time with thinking about how easy his day would have been had he left Byleth where she was.

A shadow fell over his car, and stayed there, shivering in the wind, for about forty minutes. “Do you have something to say, Bernadetta?”

“Ah!” It sounded like she was running away.

Hubert got up too quickly, smacking his head on the roof of the car. “ _Fucking shit,_ ” he whispered, “Bernadetta, you stay right there or you’re out of a job.” He rubbed his head sorely, making his way over to her.

“I’m sorry!”

Hubert sighed. “It’s okay, you’re allowed to approach me. What’s wrong?”

Bernadetta’s eyes were trained to his feet. “I...uh...I wanted to talk about...Ferdinand.”

He recalled Ferdinand’s strange behaviour with some interest. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No! Uh...yes? I don’t know!” Bernadetta moaned, taking her head in her hands.

“Please, Bernadetta. I need to know.”

She sighed, and gathered her strength. “He, um - we were talking about taxes, and, I saw the scars on his arms, and, I said something I shouldn’t have, and I feel like he’s really mad at me…”

“Scars?”

“Yeah! The burn scars.”

“Ferdinand has burn scars?” Hubert tried to think back to a time when he had seen Ferdinand’s arms, but he had never noticed any scars.

“They’re like thin rings around his wrists.” Bernadetta made circular motions with her fingers. Hubert pursed his lips. That didn’t sound like burn scars. That sounded like…

“All right, Bernadetta. Thank you for telling me. I’ll smooth things over with Ferdinand, so, don’t worry. He’s the forgiving sort - I don’t imagine he’ll even remember it by tomorrow.”

Bernadetta looked relieved. “Thank you, Hubert. You really aren’t that scary.”

Hubert grinned. “I’m a little bit scary.”

Bernadetta looked newly afraid. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Can I go now?”

He gestured with his arm instead of saying anything, and off she went.

_Wrist scars, hm?_

-

Ferdinand was keeping Hubert up at night, _again_.

He had been acting so strangely - Ferdinand wasn’t exactly sweet and loving, but he was hardly ever _cold_ to Hubert. He was obviously hiding something. And those _scars_.

Hubert would have to check it out for himself, of course.

He had long since stopped wondering why Ferdinand sought out his employment. He clearly wasn’t originally from the underworld, as much as he might insist it. Hubert had thought, maybe, that he was trying to escape something - what could it possibly be? Some kind of trauma, probably. Ferdinand never seemed to have much trouble killing people, but then again, some people just responded that way.

The mystery of Ferdinand von Aegir was unfolding right as he was about to slip away - Hubert felt like a book was being snatched from him just as it got interesting. He had to figure out what was wrong.

“Just who are you _really_ , Ferdinand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i cant believe this chapter took me this long. i have been very busy i am sorry for those of you who have been eagerly awaiting an update :( the worst part is i know exactly whats going to happen in each chapter! its just....  
> sighs dramatically  
> writing it.  
> anyhow
> 
> i kind of love the idea that modern!ferdinand has a phone addiction that's just my professional opinion
> 
> is there anything you guys are confused about/wondering about for the coming chapters? let me know, ok! i listen to you all and i seriously appreciate the comments!
> 
> big thank you to simon my absolute fucking BABY for proofreading this i love you xxx


	4. Misconceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, ASPHYXIATION, PANIC ATTACKS, MURDER

“We need to talk.”

The situation between them had been weighing on Hubert all night. He had gotten no sleep. Instead, he'd lain there, thinking about what to say - what he needed to hear.  
The child from his memories had been long-since stored away. They were a fragile dream of reconnection that could never be achieved. He wasn't sure the other child would even  _ understand _ ; they hadn't needed to kill anybody, after all - the situations were the same one, but the experiences were entirely different.  
But to know the child felt like having answers. Hubert wasn't sure  _ what _ answers and he wasn't sure  _ why _ .

“We have been talking,” Ferdinand answered breezily, and there was something in the way he stared down at his phone that made Hubert think he was looking at nothing at all.

Hubert didn't have the patience for a game. “You know what I mean.”   


His eyes flickered up for a moment, and back down again, without his head moving an inch. “No, I think I’d like you to clarify.”

He sighed. He was going to have to get Ferdinand’s attention, and he wasn’t quite sure of the right way to do it. Resting his backside against the edge of his desk, he began to probe the topic. “Whenever I talk about...my past, you avoid me. I was wondering why that is.”

Ferdinand let out a shaky laugh, his eyes shifting a bit from where they stared, glazed, at his phone screen. “Hubert, of course I don’t  _ avoid  _ you. Things are just a bit stressful lately. I’m sorry if I’ve been distracted.”

Hubert took in a deep breath. “Ferdinand,” He tried to say, but something horrible clawed its way up his throat, causing his voice to crack with a vulnerability he had forgotten he was capable of.

That, at least, made him look up. His eyes were wide for a moment, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Hubert, I,”

Hubert pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He had practiced this over and over. Why was it so  _ difficult _ to get the words out?  
“When I was younger - I - there was someone I tried desperately to search for, but I never managed, because I had no leads. All I can remember is that they were about my age, had long hair, and liked these caramels,” Hubert pulled the packet out of his pocket, not checking to see if Ferdinand was looking. “I gave up after a while. And now, everything’s coming back up again; it’s like I can’t escape it, no matter what I do.”

“Trauma is like that, isn’t it?” Ferdinand’s voice was odd - it sounded distant, almost like he was talking about a stranger. “It comes back up when you least expect it.”

“I feel like you’ve been acting strangely. Out of nowhere, you took me to the abandoned neighbourhood where I first saw that child. Then, you seem to want to escape the situation immediately after I mention anything about that event. And…”

“I told you I’m just stressed at the moment, Hubert-”

“Bernadetta came to talk to me.” Ferdinand was silent. “She told me that she saw scars on your wrists - she called them burn scars, but when she described them, it sounded like something else.”

“Hubert.” He ignored the warning tone in Ferdinand's voice.

“That child I met; their wrists and ankles were bound with c-”

“Hubert!” Ferdinand stood from his seat with such force that his chair flew backwards into the wall. “I don’t know what it is that’s going on with you; nor what you’re trying to apologise for-”

“Apologise?!” Hubert asked incredulously.

“I am not the child from your dreams!” 

Hubert looked up from his hands. “Then how did you get those scars?”

Ferdinand made an expression Hubert had never seen him make - he actually scowled. “You don’t even know what she saw.”

“Then show me.”

“I don’t have to show you  _ anything _ !” Ferdinand whipped on his jacket, layering up as if in defence. “I am going to send some papers off, and take care of some of my own business. By the time I return you’d do well to have sorted out your mood, at very least left on your own to cool off, or Goddess forbid, get some work done, for once.”

Hubert was expecting the door to slam shut, but the quiet click that left with Ferdinand was somehow worse.

That went  _ awfully _ . Why had Ferdinand blown up like that? Why had Hubert? He couldn’t quite recall what either of them had said - his head was spinning, and he felt like horseshit.

Hubert decided to take every piece of Ferdinand’s advice simultaneously; grabbing his laptop and stuffing it in his bag. He was going to work, all right. But he was going to do it at home, in peace and quiet, wherein rancid feelings of confusion and betrayal could be stuffed down and away and not be brought up again by a wilfully obtuse coworker who only seemed to heighten his emotions and make him anxious.

-

Ferdinand came back to an empty office, which wasn’t unexpected. Honestly, it was a small mercy; he was still infuriated. How could he have believed that Hubert had genuinely wanted to spend time with him to get to know him? The selfish bastard had just remembered something finally, and felt guilt for the first time in his life. How dare he come to Ferdinand and expect  _ sympathy? _

Another part of him was terrified. He had days left in Hubert’s employ and if they left things like this, then that would probably be it, wouldn’t it? Ferdinand was sick with anger, but it wasn’t enough to feel fine about losing the man he loved. Tomorrow, he would talk things over with Hubert; tell him the truth, and exactly how he felt.

Except, when Ferdinand came into the office the next day, Hubert wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there the day after, either.

Ferdinand began to get desperate.  
He tried to throw himself into teaching Bernadetta, but he kept getting distracted by his own anxiety. After seeing someone daily for five years, two and a half days felt like forever. He supposed he could tell Bernie when a joke popped into his head out of thin air, and he even tried it one time, but it wasn’t the same. How was he meant to find a new job and live his life separately from Hubert when he couldn’t last sixty hours without being in his proximity?

On the third day, Ferdinand was too worried to ignore the feeling anymore.   
He decided he would travel to Hubert’s house - just to check on him! There were business calls - okay, not  _ that _ many, but they were still potential clients going ignored! If something had happened to Hubert then Ferdinand, as his secretary, would need to know.

He had only been to Hubert’s house once before, and it was only to pick him up in the car - he had never seen inside.

The building was quite ugly, in Ferdinand’s opinion; one of those sleek modern bungalows designed to look like it was part-raw brick, part-iron and part-glass window. Ferdinand always thought they really looked like prisons, or basements. Though, he supposed that Hubert might enjoy that aesthetic.

He rapped on the door, trying not to make the knock sound frantic.

Ferdinand heard a thump and a curse from inside, and felt his heart skip a beat to know that Hubert was at least still conscious.   
When the door finally opened, Ferdinand almost fell inside.

He had never before seen Hubert in  _ loungewear _ \- he hadn’t imagined that he even owned anything close; he slept in a button-up shirt and a cloak for all Ferdinand knew.  
Right now, though, Hubert was wearing a long cotton t-shirt, and lounge pants, and all Ferdinand could think of was how delicious his arms looked.  
“Ferdinand,” Hubert said in surprise. He wasn’t looking at Ferdinand with any kind of contempt, at least.

“I didn’t know if you had been eating, so I brought food.” Ferdinand said weakly, holding up several white plastic bags.

“Come in,” Hubert still looked shell shocked as he stepped aside.

The inside of Hubert’s house was not as ugly as the outside, but it did reek a little bit of  _ early twenties single male  _ furnishing. The accents were black and red, and unlike the impression Hubert had given of his house when he had gone to visit Ferdinand, it was actually rather tidy.

Ferdinand took his shoes off as he stepped through the entranceway, feeling a distinct sense of surreality - it was almost like having vertigo; his feet were planted firmly on the ground, but he could fall at any moment.  
Hubert guided him to a red, velvet couch, and Ferdinand began to unpack his bags onto the glass coffee table in front of it. “I, uh, brought curry, but I didn’t know how hungry you’d be, so I bought, like, six of them.”

He thought Hubert would berate him, but instead, he huffed out a laugh, and said “Thank you, Ferdinand.”

He looked Hubert in the eye for the first time since arriving. “Please don’t disappear like that again.”

“You could have texted me. You never get off your phone at work.”

“I thought it might be...unprofessional.”

Hubert had the nerve to laugh again. “And so here you are, at my house.”

“I got stressed, all right! I wasn’t thinking correctly because I was worried about  _ you _ .”

It was a rare occurrence that Hubert initiated physical contact. The times Hubert had touched Ferdinand were mostly in order to dress him in a jacket, or pull him back from a fight. Hubert’s hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder, therefore, felt like the warmest action in the world coming from him. “Thank you for worrying about me. And for the curry.”

Ferdinand should broach the situation; say  _ something _ . Instead, there was a pregnant silence - he could feel questions on Hubert's lips as well.

“Hubert, did you cook?” A voice came calling down the hall, and Hubert looked like he just remembered something direly important.

A young woman padded through to the living room, looking like she had just woken up. Her hair was long and appeared unbrushed - and not just from one sleep, either. Ferdinand felt heat rise in his cheeks.  
“Ah, Byleth; you’re awake. This is Ferdinand.”

“Oh,  _ you’re  _ the secretary.” Byleth looked him up and down. “That seems about right.”  
Ferdinand couldn’t stop turning his head back and forth between the two. What had he just walked in on?

Hubert cleared his throat. “Ferdinand, this is Byleth - she’s the woman I told you about, with the stab wound. Linhardt couldn’t keep her after she became stable, so she started...staying with me a couple of days ago.”

“I am  _ so  _ sorry for visiting unannounced.” Ferdinand felt beyond embarrassed.

“If you brought food with you, please come more often. All Hubert can make is toast.” Byleth went to sit on the other side of the glass table, but winced as she moved, and decided to stand. Ferdinand noticed how careful her movements were, and tried to visualise where the wound would have been.

“I suppose I should, uh, get going then! Make sure you return to work with haste, Hubert. We have...customers.” With that, Ferdinand stood, and began his march towards the entrance.

“Wait, Ferdinand, you’re not going to stay and eat?” Hubert hurried after him.

“Don’t worry about me, I-I already ate.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Listen, Hubert,” Ferdinand whispered angrily, “I know  _ you  _ have the social etiquette of a wild horse, but I am not here to stay when you have a woman in your home!”

Hubert looked confused. “Is there a problem with women? I never pegged you as a misogynist, Ferdinand.”

“Don’t be obtuse with me! It’s  _ none  _ of my business who you have sex with, but you  _ cannot  _ force me to stay here and play house!”

“Sex?” Hubert said, clearly forgetting volume control in a way that made Ferdinand want to shrink into the wallpaper. “Ferdinand, I didn’t have sex with Byleth!” He said, quieter this time.

“She is wearing little other than a men’s shirt, Hubert!” Ferdinand gestured towards the living room. “Listen, I couldn’t care  _ less _ about your love life, but I’m not a fool, so, don’t treat me like one.”

“Yes, because I had to cut through the shirt she was  _ bleeding through _ , and now she doesn’t have any clothes to wear!”  
Ferdinand spluttered. He didn’t know what to think.

The hall was narrow with the two of them standing in it, Hubert’s huge body leaning over Ferdinand’s. He placed a hand on the wall next to Ferdinand’s arm, head drooping low over his shoulder. “Flames, you drive me up the wall. I’m  _ not _ interested in Byleth, and I don’t know that Byleth is interested in...much of  _ anything _ . Besides that, she has a hole the size of a golf ball in her abdomen!”

Part of Ferdinand was embarrassed, but he had also never felt such a desire to pull Hubert flush against his chest, with his body falling so close, he was absolutely everywhere. “I believe you,” Was all he could whisper.

“Good.” Hubert replied, and it was  _ so  _ close to Ferdinand’s ear, Gods; it was so close. Ferdinand felt his breath hitch as Hubert shifted, but, painfully, he moved away from the wall. “Now, please, will you come and eat?”

“Wait a second.” Ferdinand put his hand in front of Hubert’s face as he went to peek around the hallway. “Byleth, you don’t have any clothes to wear?”

Byleth was already chewing, and she turned to Ferdinand, giving a massive  _ gulp _ . “I do not.”

“You are hopeless!” He shoved Hubert’s chest. “You have a vulnerable person staying with you for two days and you can’t even buy her  _ basic necessities _ .”

Hubert shot him a wounded look. “I’ve been going through a lot.”

“ _ You’ve  _ been going through a lot? She just got stabbed!”

“That’s fair.”

“Byleth,” Ferdinand announced, striding into the living room with new-found confidence. “After I eat, I am going to go and get you some clothes, so you can stop wearing  _ somebody’s _ -” With a sharp stare at his boss, “hand-me-downs.”

“That’s kind of you, Ferdinand.”

“Do you mind me asking what size you wear?”   


“34D.” She said without hesitation.

“He means shirts, Byleth,” Hubert corrected irately.

“Oh. Medium. I think.”

Ferdinand pursed his lips. “I’ll just go by eye, I suppose!”

-

“Here, try these on.”

“Ferdinand, did you clear out the store?” Hubert asked amusedly, staring at the paper bags scattered about his living room floor. Byleth eyed them dubiously; her eyes flickering over to Ferdinand’s outfit and then back to the bags.

“She needed a new wardrobe, Hubert; not an evening dress. She’ll probably be staying here a while before she gets back on her feet.” Hubert still looked entertained by the situation. “Oh! Uh, speaking of.” Ferdinand addressed Byleth. “Since you told me your size anyway, and I wasn’t sure if you bled all over yours, I bought you a couple of brassieres, too.”

“...That was generous.”

“I can’t live without my outfits. Besides, it was actually rather fun shopping to suit somebody else’s body!”

“Please tell me you haven’t dressed her like you.”

“What is wrong with the way I dress?”

“Nothing, when you’re wearing the clothes. Not everybody swears by ‘ _ orange is the new black’ _ , however.” He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest, proud of his own joke.

“Well now you’re just being ridiculous. Orange wouldn’t even suit her palette.”  
There was a rustle, and Ferdinand looked away from Hubert to see Byleth already making her way down the hall with the bags. He chewed on his cheek. “I hope she likes the clothes.”

“I’m sure they will be just fine. That was very kind of you, Ferdinand.”

“Saving her life was very kind of  _ you _ , Hubert.”

“Well, I suppose she’s your responsibility too, now. And that surpasses your employment contract, by the way!”

“Good. She needs somebody with a degree of responsibility in her life. Don’t get me into trouble, though - after all this is over I have to live like a normal person.” Ferdinand said it like a joke, but it left something stagnant and serious in the air. Hubert’s smile straightened out.   
“I’m not leaving completely, you know. I’ll still be here, whenever you need me.” Ferdinand pressed a hand against Hubert’s forearm.

Where Ferdinand touched Hubert, he unfurled, his hands moving hesitantly up Ferdinand’s arms until they reached his shoulders. The way he was looking at Ferdinand could have positively melted him. “Ferdinand, can I-can I…”

Ferdinand pulled Hubert into a tight embrace. He took in the scent of his clothes, and pulled him ever closer. Hubert’s arms found their way around Ferdinand’s back, and at Hubert's nearly silent  _ "I'll miss you," _ something broke in him. 

He started to sob into Hubert’s shirt, clutching at him desperately. He felt like Hubert was slipping away from him, particle by particle, and would soon fade away into obscurity. And it was all Ferdinand’s fault.   
“I’m sorry for-for-being so cruel-the other day-I,” He tried to say, but breathing was so difficult.

“Hey, it’s all right.” Hubert rubbed comforting circles into his back. “I think that we both have some things to think about.”

Ferdinand attempted a nod. “Hubert, I need to tell you the truth, I need to tell you, I-”

His phone sounded in his pocket, stopping his crying in its tracks. That was his important ringtone. Hubert released him so he could check the message.

“Ferdinand, what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t get to meet the Blaiddyds, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. Is there a problem?”

“Did you even bother to message them?”

Hubert did a double take. “I-I was stressed! It was a stressful situation. I was receiving....stress.”

“Dimitri did  _ not _ like being stood up, Hubert. I think we have an issue.”

-

"Unbelievable," Ferdinand muttered. The bastard hadn't stopped complaining since they left the house. It wasn't like Hubert had intended to play hooky! Ferdinand had been all praise for Hubert's heroism up until those threatening texts came through - informing them that they should meet at the Blaiddyds' main office before 3P.M.

Ferdinand parked the Sedan a short walk from the office, and was currently trying to rehearse a script.   
"I mean, maybe we went to the location and nobody was there! Then they can blame it on whatever grunt they sent and we can escape in the chaos."

Hubert put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, trying to imagine Ferdinand succeeding at such a lie. "How about we just tell the truth? We have Byleth's body as evidence."

"You want to look that incompetent?"

"It doesn't matter. I want to avoid conflict with the Blaiddyds, even if it means I lose a customer."

"And what about credibility?"

"Who cares about that? Credibility, nobility, honour...all of those are fancy words for little people to hide behind."

Ferdinand seemed to bristle at that. "Maybe if you  _ had _ a code to go by you wouldn't work so sloppily."

Arguing was not high on Hubert's list of priorities today. Their relationship was already fragile. Instead, he strode on ahead, in front of Ferdinand - they'd arrived at their destination, anyway.

The door opened before he could knock.

It was not common that Hubert had to crane his head  _ upwards _ when he was talking to someone. His neck usually ached from looking down, but the man he was staring at was impossibly large. 

"Ah, Hubert von Vestra. We've been expecting your visit."

Hubert smiled widely, closing his eyes as if he found anything genuinely humorous. "Yes, my assistant received your threatening text messages."

"Ah, is that Dedue?" Ferdinand practically pushed past Hubert at the threshold. "It is so good to see you, old friend!"

Dedue's expression went from bored to friendly in a matter of moments. He placed his hands on Ferdinand's shoulders in a polite embrace. "Ferdinand. It has been too long." Ah, Hubert hated this guy.

"I wish it was under better circumstances." Ferdinand returned the embrace, and led the way into the waiting room.

Unlike Hubert's office, Dimitri's was pristine. The floor was cloaked in black marble tile; expensive vases sat on half-columns and paintings hung from ornate frames on royal blue walls. The snobbery of it all put Hubert's hackles up.

"Yes, well, I actually have to leave in a moment. I will be in contact, though; perhaps we could go for tea sometime."

"That sounds wonderful, Dedue. My schedule will always have a space for you." Hubert sat miserably on the far end of a pristine leather couch, leaning his head against his fist. Trust Ferdinand to be a social butterfly at a time like this. It was probably good for business - but Hubert never had been very good at pretending to be civil.

"Thank you, Ferdinand. I am leaving now, but since it is you, I am issuing you a warning. Dimitri...he is not in the best of moods. A woman we were questioning some days ago has gone missing, and she is quite important to him. Please do not rile him up while he is impatient; it would not be good for any of us." His eyes slid in Hubert's direction as he said the last bit.

"A woman?"

"Yes. Her name is Eisner, like Jeralt Eisner; the Blade Breaker. He has been missing for some years now, but he had some...unfinished business with us. If you see anything, I trust you will let us know."

Hubert could see Ferdinand was frozen. "It's been a long time since I've heard the name Blade Breaker." He said, giving Ferdinand some time to breathe.

"Yes." Dedue looked between the two like he was thinking about something. "At any rate, I will take my leave now. Goodbye, Ferdinand…von Vestra."

"Flames, I hate that man." Hubert said after the door clicked shut.

"That is  _ not _ what should be on your mind right now." Ferdinand took a seat next to Hubert, rubbing his temples.

"Now is not the time, Ferdinand." Hubert lowered his voice to a mutter. "The walls have ears."

"What a surprise to see House Vestra actually make an appointment." The click of Armani heels would have signalled Dimitri's presence had he not spoken up.

"Mr. Blaiddyd, you must accept our apologies for the other day. It is good to finally meet you, at any rate." Ferdinand had already stood, and put his hand out to shake.

Dimitri stared at the hand like it was alien to him, and then pulled a cigar out of his blazer. His long hair was pulled up in a shaggy ponytail, his eye patch tied messily; five o'clock shadow clearly visible. It seemed like somebody had dressed him from the neck down (and they probably  _ had _ ), but he hadn't let them touch anything above that.  
"Why did you stand me up the other day, von Vestra?"

Hubert's mind ticked. He just realised that his only excuse for being gone was on Dimitri's wanted list.  
He had yet another decision to make.

Giving Dimitri access to the runaway would put Hubert in a good position. Dimitri would have a debt to him, and the current situation would be absolved. Speaking seriously, he didn't have a lot of reason to ally himself with the daughter of the Blade Breaker.

He thought of Byleth. How she had nobody to reach out to; how she had to call for the assistance of a stranger.

-

_ "So, are you ready to tell me the truth yet?" Hubert pressed down the button on the toaster, not turning to face Byleth as she entered the living room. _

_ "I hate to disappoint you, but I really don't know anything." _

_ "I'm not a patient person, Eisner." _

_ "If it was safe for you to know the details, that name would be all you needed." _

_ He turned on his heel, leaning forward against the breakfast bar. "Trying to protect me, are we? Do you think I'm just a civilian?" _

_ "I know that you're  _ something _." _

_ Hubert scoffed. "So what are your plans, then? Just lay low until your injury scabs over and then vanish, never to be seen again?" _

_ "...Something like that." _

_ "You cannot run away forever." _

_ "No, but I can run for a pretty long time."  
_ _ That was the closest thing Byleth had said to a joke since he'd met her. _

_ "I can tell you've seen some things. We all have. But have you ever tried staying still and  _ facing _ what scares you?"  
_ _ Byleth was silent, her expression unreadable.  
_ _ "What if you built a foundation here? Made some allies? It would make you easier to find, of course; but harder to hurt." _

_ "What are you proposing, Hubert?" _

_ "Work for me." _

_ "Why are you doing all of this?" _

_ Hubert smiled, wide and toothily. "I must have a complex for lost causes." _

-

"...I messed up the meeting location."

Dimitri's head snapped up at that, and he actually smiled. It was something dry and sinister, curving around his cigar oddly - if Hubert wasn't a stronger man, it would have sent a shiver up his spine.  
"You must have forgotten who you're talking to." He said calmly.

Everything happened very fast after that.

There was a crash loud enough to make something in Hubert's ears split. Ferdinand ducked away and flew to the other end of the room. He clearly wasn't the target, though. From  _ somewhere,  _ Dimitri had produced a hammer, and it was sitting in the middle of a mess of what used to be an incredibly expensive desk. "I don't like to be kept waiting, von Vestra!" Hubert went to reach into his jacket, pulling out his pistol. Dimitri didn't even seem to notice, or care. In his craze, he smashed a vase. "I'll teach you a lesson. I'll teach you never to fuck with me again!" But he wasn't headed towards Hubert.  
He caught Ferdinand by surprise, pressing him up against a wall.

Hubert moved like lightning. Dimitri had turned his back on Hubert to attack Ferdinand.  
Ferdinand was losing the battle in raw strength where he gripped Dimitri's wrist. Hubert yanked Dimitri's head back by that ugly fucking ponytail and gripped his neck to strangle. Dimitri started to reach up when Hubert put the pistol against his temple.  
He only meant to threaten Dimitri, but rage had built up in him from somewhere unknown, and he tightened his grip on Dimitri's neck. He made a gargling noise and dropped the hammer. 

"Hubert, stop." Hubert had almost forgotten Ferdinand's presence. He moved his hands forward but didn't quite touch him.

It took more effort than it should have to release Dimitri's neck, and as he did, he shoved him. Dimitri stumbled a few steps away from them, rubbing his neck and trying to catch his breath. "If you hear from me again, consider it a  _ seriously _ bad omen."

With that, he swerved out of the nasty office, hoping this was the last time he’d ever have to commit it to memory.

“I don’t think I was ever meant to get along with those fucking buffoons.” Hubert’s rage had mostly subsided, but he wanted nothing more than to leave. He was expecting Ferdinand to make a quip about his lack of etiquette, but there was only silence. Finally, Hubert turned back.

Ferdinand was on the other end of the street - still at the door of Dimitri’s office. He held onto the wall, and for a moment, Hubert thought he’d gotten a stone stuck in his shoe or something, but he didn’t move - he just stared at the ground. “Ferdinand?” Hubert called, but there was no response.  
He made his way over. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” He breathed, still with a distant look in his eye. He attempted to walk - a couple of steps, before he braced himself back against the wall as if he was injured.

“Ferdinand? Did Dimitri hurt you? What’s wrong?” Hubert began to fuss, bringing his hands towards Ferdinand’s waist to check him for injuries.

Ferdinand backed up even further against the wall, pushing Hubert away with his free hand. The message was clear as day.  _ Don’t touch me.  _ Hubert stepped back, but stayed with Ferdinand, assessing the situation.    
His breaths were coving in heavy; eyes glassy. Was this a panic attack? Ferdinand had never reacted this badly to being attacked before; not even on his first time.  
“Breathe slowly, okay? Slowly, Ferdinand.”

Eyes shifting back and forth, unfocused, Ferdinand’s breathing became shallower, and his fingers didn’t grip at the wall like he was losing his balance anymore. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Take your time, okay?” Hubert was acutely aware of their unsafe location, but was unwilling to move until he was sure Ferdinand could think clearly.

“Let’s go. To the car. Now, please.”

“All right.” Hubert still made no move to touch Ferdinand - he simply started walking, albeit slowly. Ferdinand followed behind him.

-

Every time Ferdinand blinked he could see violence behind his eyes. Hands on  _ his  _ neck, hands on Dimitri’s; were they really any different?   
For a moment, he was petrified - of  _ Hubert. _ It defied all logic, and yet it was true.  
Ferdinand was exhausted. He might have fallen asleep in the car if not for the nagging feeling of a lack of safety.

He had assumed they were going to the office, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself when Hubert pulled back up at his house. When he asked  _ “Are you okay to come inside?” _ , Ferdinand only nodded and got out of the car.

-

Byleth was sitting on the couch, and the television was on, but she really just seemed to be spacing out. She was wearing some of the clothes Ferdinand had picked out for her, and, well, he  _ personally  _ wouldn’t have worn purple flares with a red crop top, but everyone’s style was different, he supposed.

“I just had the most interesting conversation with Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.”

Byleth looked up at Hubert’s words as if he’d said something innocuous about the weather.  
“Does he know I’m here?”

“No, but he  _ does  _ seem to be quite well acquainted with your father.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I felt like getting an explanation out of you first. So start talking, and I might just spare your life.”

Byleth sighed, and switched off the television with a remote. “Jeralt...didn’t go missing without telling anybody. He left me in the care of the Blaiddyd family three years ago, for protection. It was fine until they started to think that he wasn’t coming back. He owes them a lot of money - if he doesn’t pay it, then I will have to.”

Hubert’s expression didn’t change - but he did walk over to Byleth, and sat on the couch next to her. Ferdinand didn’t really know what to do with himself; he danced on the threshold, debating whether it would be rude to just go home.  
“Have you decided whether you’re going to work with me or not?”   


Byleth looked just as surprised by that as Ferdinand felt. “You still want to hire me?”

“I am not the type to rescind the offer I already made. Yes or no, Byleth Eisner?”

“You don’t have to take care of me, you kn-”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Then I shall take you with me to the branch office tomorrow morning, and you can meet some of your subordinates.” With that, Hubert stood from the couch, but Byleth stopped him, gripping his wrist.

“Thank you, Hubert.”

Hubert took her hand, and Ferdinand was sure he’d seen enough, when he said “Where did you get this?”

“The scar?” Byleth held out her other arm. “I was kidnapped fifteen years ago.”

Ferdinand went cold. “Hubert, I need to leave.”

Hubert didn’t even look up. “Then I will see you tomorrow afteroon.”

-

Dimitri seemed to have had the same headache for twenty-three years.   
Sat at the ruins of his desk, he contemplated smashing up the place a little bit more - maybe it would be cathartic, and he’d have an inkling of where to fucking go next.

He wasn’t quite sure how his office had gotten this messed up, only that  _ he  _ had done it. Losing the Eisner girl, losing his temper at von Vestra; what would he lose through his own screw ups next?

Right on cue, the door to his office creaked open. Was Dedue back already? 

“Seiros’ asshole, did somebody finish you off already?”

A stocky man blocked out the light from the entranceway, shaggy hair and beard swaying in the wind, adding to his intimidating silhouette, if the clear outline of a shotgun strapped to his arm didn't send Dimitri cold already.  
“Blade Breaker. I’ll assume you have the money you owe us.”

Jeralt unslung his gun and pointed it at Dimitri’s head. “I’ll assume you didn’t try to murder my fucking daughter.”

Dimitri’s head went blank. “What in the Gods’ names are you talking about?”

Jeralt kicked the already decimated desk with such force it slammed back into Dimitri’s belly. “Don’t fucking play dumb with me, you little prick! Where’s my fucking kid? You have five seconds before I pour my bullets into your pea brain!”

Dimitri tried to find the button under his desk to call his subordinates, but under the mess of wood, he was struggling. Should he get up? The man had a gun to his head. Dedue wasn’t back. He was alone. “She went missing.”

“Not good enough, blondie. Three seconds.”

Bargaining was the only way. “That’s all there is, Eisner. You didn’t pay me and the girl ran away. If you kill me now, then you die later, and you’ll never find her.”

Jeralt’s face contorted further in rage.

The sound of gunshots echoed in Dimitri’s massive office. The bleeding was almost instantaneous; staining the desk and the floor tiles wherever it spread.

“Useless piece of shit.”

-

True to his word, Hubert arrived at the office around 3P.M. “I took Byleth to the branch office. Petra is showing her the ropes.” He informed Ferdinand, hanging his coat up. “She’s strong, and smart. I think that we should take her with us from now on.”

“I leave in two days, Hubert. There’s no  _ we _ about it, but it is wise for you to choose a new partner.”

Hubert laughed dryly. “How do I keep forgetting about that?”

Ferdinand looked up from his desk. “Is she the child?”

“What?”

“Byleth. Is she the child you keep mentioning?”

Hubert paused. “It’s quite likely.”

“I see. Congratulations, then.”

“Ferdinand.”

“Hubert!”

“Why are you acting like that?” It was more of a statement than it was a question.

Ferdinand snapped his file shut. “I’m not acting like anything.”

“Don’t do this a second time.” Hubert looked pained.

Ferdinand sighed. “I’m sorry. I know this is important to you.” He stood up, and made his way over to Hubert, grasping one hand in both of his own. “It’s a selfish thought. But, I can’t help thinking that...everything that’s happened between us over the past couple of weeks...was because you thought I was that person. And now I’m scared things are going to change again.”

He felt Hubert embrace him with his free hand. “That would be impossible, considering that I started taking you out before I had the slightest inkling.” Ferdinand felt his anxiety deflate. “Listen, Ferdinand. I may have...found someone I have been looking for. But that doesn’t change your importance to me. Your value wouldn’t have changed even if you  _ were  _ that child - because it comes from somewhere else. You will always be someone I care for - not because of what you  _ could be,  _ but because of who you are already.”

Hubert’s words tore a hole open in Ferdinand’s heart. He couldn’t tell anymore where the line was between a strong friendship and budding romance, although he knew how  _ he  _ felt.  
“I’ve been a fool, haven’t I?”

“Ferdinand, of  _ course  _ not. It must have been difficult when I kept bringing it up. I promise I wasn’t trying to push that on you - I just felt so  _ sure  _ for a moment.”

His stomach dropped at that. The worst part was, Hubert was right. Should he just tell him the truth now? But what about Byleth? Ferdinand was terrified of being outed as a liar - what that would do to Hubert.

Ferdinand von Aegir stayed quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back in literally two days wow this might be a record for me
> 
> i've discovered that if i just don't stop writing then i don't forget what's going on in my own fics and it becomes easier to write
> 
> I LOVE DEDUE sorry i had to include him and i took advantage of the fact that he and ferdinand have no supports to make them friends. i also just thought it would be funny if hubert couldnt stand dedue i cant possibly imagine a scenario in which those two would get on at all.  
> and im sorry for killing dimitri as soon as he entered...i promise theres plot reasons for it!!!!!!!! and for that reason i made him a little nastier than i usually would just so it wouldnt hurt so bad
> 
> there's only two days to go until ferdinand is his own man! what do you guys think is going to happen? is there anything or anyone you'd like to see more of? let me know!
> 
> thank you to my baby boy joey for proofing this for me xxx if you like awakening you should check out his fic @lnmiose

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers!!  
> I love Hubert/Ferdinand so much. I would like very much to be able to write the classy style romances I've seen from fanfiction writers so far in this tag, but unfortunately I am emotionally twelve, so here's guns, cars, and the mafia.  
> I really hope you liked the first chapter! This is different to what I usually write in the sense that 1. I've got all the chapters already planned out and 2. The chapters are a lot shorter than I'm used to writing, so I'm hoping it's all going to go well.  
> I do not have a great deal of experience with the mafia, so I apologise if this is incredibly sensationalised. It's also supposed to be relatively lighthearted - for any of you who have seen What's Wrong with Secretary Kim, you'll know it has that kind of vibe most of the time - but Hubert especially has a dark murdery air about him so I think he's pretty well-suited to mafia aus.  
> At first I was planning to make Ferdinand the leader and Hubert the secretary because of how suited to the sidekick role Hubert is and how fancy Ferdinand is, but I went back on myself because I thought it would be more fun this way.


End file.
